Of Tree-Houses

I used to spend my nights
In the Patterson’s tree-house
That’s where you could see the stars the best
And it made me happy to be there
To feel pressed up against the sky
Arms out
So the constellations could push against my chest and eyelids
The way it feels when you’re floating in the lake
I loved those nights
When time couldn’t touch me because my skin was too soft
But it isn’t now, and
I don’t go up to the tree-house anymore because I am too old for tree-houses and sky-hugs and stars for that matter
Because we are chemical creatures
We pick our own poisons and yours is, and mine is
Not that deadly (but we’re still dying)
Please, take it with a stiffer smile
Than the one you wore
And I don’t even know if the tree-house is still there anymore
And it makes me wonder if the stars are gone too