And your touch was oceans, I was drowning at the thought of being without your fingers in my hair.
I knew from the tone in your voice you'd leave eventually but I grabbed your hand and somehow, I thought that'd make you succumb to me.
You were 4 a.m skies and every reason to say goodbye, but how could I form those words if you made me forget how to speak.
I could tell you every color in your eyes and the every story told from the scars across your knuckles.
You couldn't look me in the eyes, you couldn't bear the thought of emotion on your back.
Coward.
Where was your hand when I was drowning?

I've kissed more guys than what I can count on my hands, I could describe them for you, I don't forget goosebumps and fingers on my hip at 3 am.
Flashback:
Hair to my shoulders, and fat on my hips, you looked at me and I forgot how my thighs were pressed too close together and people giggled when I ran. You kissed me and I forgot how to breathe.
Flashback:
Give me a year, I kissed him against the side of his garage, he was too old for me, too cold, his heart was stone and I knew I wanted to be numb, and he grabbed me around the waist and told me to work on it.
Flashback:
You were the brother before my favorite summer, but that's another story to tell. We made a competition of kissing against mall walls and kissing with our eyes open, you weren't anything I wanted but you were warm.
Flashback:
You were the only boy who whispered to me in Spanish, the first guy who cried in front of me and declared I sunken into his veins so far that if I left, his new addictions would drown him and scare his mother. He kissed me like I was his only breath.
Flashback:
You were my favorite summer, I was your challenge and you were my guilty pleasure. I wasn't suppose to be out at 3 am but you kissed me on swings and fogging your backseat became a hobby. We both swore we'd never fall for anyone, but you tripped and fell into me, but I left without a trace, he kissed me like stars had fallen.
Flash forward:
Every guy I had every kissed, was only me feeling them, I never felt for myself. You weren't fireworks, you were stars exploding and creating a new earth. I couldn't compare you to fire because you burned brighter than that, you collected shivers in your fingertips and delivered them to my spine.

I pray you burn the wood you carved us into, because I'm tired of fighting this fire alone.
You've roasted our love away, carving us into a childhood bunk bed and praying we stay past our adolescent phase.
I want to kiss you under our initials, show you how heated I can get under your gaze, smolder the letters of my name because I don't belong on bunk beds.
I belong in backseats, and kissing behind your mothers back when she's making us dinner.
I belong as a secret, I belong on letters you were never suppose to send.
Lick the envelopes with love you aren't suppose to have for me, tell your mother it's a platonic relationship and your father I was the kind of girl you'd marry.
I don't belong on bunk beds, so don't put me above your head.