Emo, 2005

Testing out your sister’s Clinique eyeliner,
never sure of how thick to make the black
beneath our eyes, then blacking out
our fingernails with a Sharpie that would wear
first at the edges from the sweat, me pulling

up a pair of jeans your girlfriend let me
borrow before skinny jeans for men existed,
were even a thing yet, and you in the mirror
flat-ironing your choppy boy bangs. How ridiculous
we looked, this weekly preshow ritual of belonging,
Want to read the rest?
Please login.
New to Narrative? sign up.
It's easy and free.