Bullets

You gotta walk like you’re about to get shot in the throat. He said. So I did. I walked slow like I was going to get shot in the throat.

You gotta start listening to better music. He said. So I listened to everything he told me to. I even learned all the words.

And then I covered myself in tattoos, just because he liked them, and he held my hand as the needle dug into my skin, and I loved when he held my hand.

And I never went to bed early, because he wanted to stay up late and watch old movies or go out the bonfires until early in the morning.

And I stopped going to the beach, because he hated the sand and the sun and the salt. And one day I just broke.