The sweet kisses he planted on my shoulders and the moves he made were full of truth The guilt he felt should have been mine but the longer he stayed the more I felt fine
For the other’s love was simply beige And outlined in black I didn’t want excitement I didn’t want lust It was not enticement or boredom It was from the buildup of rust between my bones. And I listened to your breath against my shoulder through the phone. It hit me like an ensemble predicating the concerto. You were just an instrument. And here I thought I was the conductor just dreaming of ways to escape. And I don’t sleep well when I’m next to him either. Because I’m dreaming of ways to relate. And I don’t sleep well when I’m alone. Because there’s no one left to blame. So now trying to be tame Searching for an answer in a small place like alone