the night i lost it
the night i lost it was cold.
all my friends were asleep
together we held 80 ounces of liquid blindfolds
the night i lost it was cold
he brushed his hands up my arms
laughed at me for having goosebumps
the night i lost it i felt warm and safe
i smiled and maybe he smiled but i couldnt be sure
suddenly a wooden bench appeared.
the night i lost it was the second time id met him.
the night i lost it my heart pouded
my knees shook and my hands clenched up
and the wooden bench drew red lines on my back
a scarred up masterpiece of the morning
orchestral music coursed through our bodies
dirtied with thc and america
the night i lost it it was cold
all my friends were asleep
anything but now didnt matter, didnt exist
he was soft
the night i lost it i whispered in his ear
that i thought maybe i was falling
he covered my mouth with one sweaty hand and
wrapped the other around my throat
the same ones hed used to bring warmth to my shivering skin
irony
the morning after i lost it we walked
the morning after i lost it i counted the splinters in my hand
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9
for every time it had the chance to leave
but stuck around for one reason or another
the morning after i lost it i remembered back to when
i believed in the right person
the morning after i lost it i wondered how id been so naive
the morning after id lost it my eyes were heavier and
he felt sick.