You were my first love, full of innocence and rookie mistakes.
We spent our days walking miles in that Southern summer heat,
climbing magnolia trees and drinking your dad's sweet tea.
Your skin, it tasted like sunshine and smelled like fresh cut grass
when we lost track of time in his hammock by the lake.
We spent our nights hiding in your bedroom, and you played
Spanish songs on your guitar while I laid on the rug on your floor.
It was there that I asked you to touch me, the windows dripping with humidity.
You taught me about passion, love so fierce that it keeps you up at night fighting.
How bodies dripping with sweat can leave you feeling burned.
How it can all end in a blaze of fire, with nothing but the taste of ash in your mouth.
We did that dance for six years, coming back and falling apart once again.
On one of the last nights, you sang songs against my lips while I
swam in the amber pools of your eyes, eyes so deep I nearly drowned in them.
When we met again, the tension was so thick, you could choke on it.
And you took your shot one last time but I couldn't stand to be your target anymore.

the cigarette in my hand shook
with tremors and my tears dripped
onto the concrete when i told her
what happened in that bed
blood soaked and no longer white

see i can tell you the when
and the where and discuss the why
but i'd never told anyone how
it all felt in the play by play recap
of the worst night of my life

and she held my hand as i
held myself together as best as
i could and held the lighter to the
next cigarette because chain smoking
is what i do best on nights like this night

and afterwards she helped pick up
all of the little pieces of me scattered
with the ashes on the floor
and she told me she loved me because
that is what being my best friend looks like