before your mind can make sense of what's going on you're leaning on the side of his car
the moon radiating off his tan skin and the smell of cologne permeating through your clothes
the clock is playing tricks on you, stealing another hour each time you glance over
he chooses his words carefully and sweetly, to make sure they won't leave your memory
next, you're tiptoeing out the backdoor, so very silently you wouldn't dare to wake a soul
perfume freshly sprayed and nerves escalating, he's waiting for you in the brisk midnight air
rebellion and youthfulness welcome you, and all you can remember is his lips
you had never felt so alive
your mind then drives you back to the glistening water
the walks around the lake seem to replay in your head
the nights when weakness became your closest friend and your logic fled
you could have sworn he meant the things he said
your final destination is that fucked july night, planted on the sidewalk
after your mind is made up, there's no going back-- it's time to move on
the silence is so loud you could hear both heart beats--
hers pounded with relief, his with regret
the warm summer air somehow managed to give you goosebumps as you walked home
these memories are the ones that always trace their way back to you, uninvited
all it takes is something to trigger it and it's as if it happened yesterday
No comments:
Post a Comment