The Carrington of Teens

Licking red wine off my lips,

The glow of the art nouveau lamps

Illuminate my nails, reflecting upon the glass.

The warm fire batters the cold that seeps from the rain through the windows.

We walk through that same rain, huddled together under corduroy coats,

Our feet stamping in the puddles and the wind pinching and pulling my hair.

I close my eyes and I can taste the Savoy,

The dinghy tables and pizza by the lake,

I understand now, that the harshest years were sweetened

by late nights of getting to know ourselves.