I miss the streetlight clocks;

The days where stars were only a fingertip length away

Where a red tire swing was all we needed to build a universe.

Perhaps if we swing over the bar,

We'll find the elixir of youth,

A way to preserve this moment, our fleeting innocence

As a fixed loop in time.

Perhaps we will never know of the days

Where happiness only comes in highs

Or what it's like when enjoying them

Turns into chasing the next one.

We will never know that the stars in our eyes

Are actually light years away;

And set fire to our crumpling bodies trying to reach them.

Paper people patching pain with annihilation

Running running running away until

we come full circle.

Trying to go as high as we can until

the haze becomes unbearable.

Spinning faster on the red tire swing until

we're puking up memories of the stars,

And even then, the bile is only an acidic aftertaste,

A hint of what it once was.

And so, we were trying to go over that bar

Kicking our feet, screaming with youthful joy.

And for one wondrous moment in our lives

That was all we were

And it was enough