That’s where we are going.
My face illuminated by the little bubbles that fill my day and my night.
Witty little nothings texted back and forth.
I scrutinize the thumbnail of your face.
A grainy image of a smile and bright eyes.
We joke, we banter, we play every single move.
It’s going nowhere.
You’re a nowhere boy.
The kind of guy who comes in with a grin that promises something.
But turns out empty like my inbox.
You’re just an idea of a person.
You’re not real.
Nowhere boys are intoxicating and soon I am drunk on us.
All the while knowing that tomorrow’s hangover is coming.
Because I can’t seem to learn.
That a nowhere boy is true to his name.
That a nowhere boy is not a beginning.
He’s a road with no destination.
He is not a safe place to curl up next to.
He is fickle and fleeting.
And this thing?
Is going... Nowhere.