done.

we've been fed after midnight
we've found loves
and lost loves
and found them again
in the most unlikely of places
between the pages of an old copy of 'to kill a mockingbird'
wrapped in a blanket stuffed inside an old bass drum
under the pile of old leaves after the winter thaw

we wear them
scratches on our arms and backs
names tattooed
and erased
and tattooed again
old love letters in the pockets of jeans
washed and folded
and opened to reveal
a map to a treasure
we've long thought we'd lost

they made a mistake
they fed us after midnight
and now we are on the loose
eating up the early morning
with too much syrup
and not enough pain
to keep us down for long.