Teaching Summer to BreatheSummer will always remind me of hot, sweltering nights spent drinking sangria, through the dripping fairy lights of your bedroom window. A sticky, starry sky looked back at us, the glow of the moon almost golden in the heat. Fourteen meant we weren't growing up fast enough and a liquor cabinet key seemed to hold the answer to that problem.You taught me how to drink that night.(You also showed me how beautiful it was to just hold your breath till your head spins and reality seems like it is going to fade further and further away.)-Six summers ago I met a boy who liked to tell me how much like summer I was. He was big boned and thin skinned and the first time I told him he wasn't mine to keep, he left handprints on my skin that reminded you of a canvas covered in autumn leaves that you saw in New York. Then you proceeded to break every single window in his house (Yes, even the one in the attic he loved so much.)You taught me how to smile through heartbreak that night.(You
HeartacheThere's a reason whyboth my heart and my gunhave empty chambers baby, and it's you.