i dont need to explain why my mouth becomes a half-written dictionary
words like 'um' and 'like' and 'yeah' and 'ha' all pour out at alarming rates and you try and remain mysterious while i just try and remain
so i’ll sleep with you at your parents house and thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me stay
and when you make me breakfast with beans and eggs, i’ll pretend that i don’t see the bacon floating around
i’ll just toss my fork right down the garbage disposal and say hello to your mother and walk your dogs
and i’ll get interrupted while writing about you and i’ll be grateful for it
and that fork is still chugging in the garbage disposal

and please, let me down easy when you dont feel the same
have your mom wave goodbye as we drive down the street

i am the girls you haven’t kissed
the patch of skin below your wrist
i am the sky dark before dawn
your hair before you cut it, blonde and long
i am your neighbors window, a grocery bag
i am the best and the worst thing you’ve never had

you’ll dream of me as soon as i leave
i’ll pretend i don’t know that you watched me sleep
whispered my name, it was almost noon
wiped my eyes and swallowed the moon
thought about you on the train ride home
i’m not allowed to love you, i’ll leave you alone

i can only afford you for a night or two
buy you a drink and a new pair of shoes
let you pull the denim from my skin
drive to the movie theatre just make out and then-
park across the street from the broadway motel
pull my hand across the street and fall in the stairwell
use a gas station bathroom while you fight with the ATM
make love on top of the sheets because we forgot how to swim
it wasn't supposed to be a difficult goodbye
but i swear to god i saw something in your eyes
you breath my name and let me go
use your bare hands to dig my car out of the snow

i would drive to salt lake
just to taste the sodium on your shaky knees
to lick the inside of your eyeballs as they hover above me
for you to kiss where my arm bends and where your dimples are craters
for you to spin me over, ask me to take a shower
twist my neck into yours and say i don’t want to get my hair wet
a motel six won't know much about love like this
but i'll drop a few twenty dollar bills
so i can move into your body and whisper your name until you wake up
for you to reach across my spine and listen to our temporary neighbors
they'll scream out of love, don’t hit me, don’t hit me
and you hold your hand over my ear, and i'll fall back asleep
wake up early to make love, then drive to my job
so i can get paid minimum wage, enough to buy you a drink on a sunday night

took my hand pulled me into a room
where moms and dads danced to the cure
leaned me against the wall and the neon glow was harsh
bent my back against the edge, and leaned in with an orbit gum whisper
‘do you want to get out of here?’

you taste like 2008
you taste like friday night behind the bleachers
you taste like 'lets get back together'
you taste like the carpeted basement of my old house
you taste like stale red vines

you sat across from me, our eyes drawing blanks
i offered you a beer and you said no thanks
we sang songs about making love
and how *** is fun, if you’re drunk enough
i apologized for kissing like a trojan, three hundred in one night
and you on the third date, when lips felt right
then we drove a hundred miles down to south santa fe
passed the gas station where my last lover lay
his stomach left a stain on the sidewalk
i loved him once and now we don’t even talk
you tried to grab the clutch but instead touched my knee
blushing, you sat like cancer beside me
you grew at an alarming rate
wiped your lip and chewed on lace
fingers drew hearts on your foggy window
you promised if i left that you’d never let me go
i swore i wouldn’t fall, so i laid on the floor
hudson eyes stared at the picture hanging above your door
you asked to catch the bends inside of me
sink and drown, *** is fun if you just promise to leave