it is.

poetry.

it is...

bad blood

splattered ink

a reverie

of triumph

it is...

prescription amphetamines

that probably aren't yours

and more of

none of the same

it is love in the park

on a saturday afternoon

or

tear-stained pages of grief

it is the mind's darkest corners

pristine and salvaged

it is...

the baggy t-shirt

that you can wear any time.

it is...

your pumping temples

and adrenaline

and spontaneity.

it is...

throat-burning whiskey

and giggling car rides

and friends...

walking on a dirt lane

through a summer's twilight.

it is where we relive the best

and especially the worst.

it is the whisper words

sung by musicians each night.

it is the coffee shops, 

that, like hearts,

stay open

through the midnight hours.

it is

like people...

always changing,

looking,

finding,

growing,

saving.