DONUTS

we used to write
real letters,
make mix tapes,
spend hours drinking
bad coffee and loving

donuts. we were artists
because we couldn't
keep secrets from ourselves.

our smoking was the truth
to your dare; we didn't care
what you thought of us just
as long as you did, and we didn't
question what was taught to us,
we wrapped ourselves
in books and hid.

and not a day went by
we didn't try to write
our way out of pain
before suffering had us
making mix tapes and eating
donuts again.