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.

 

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