I am lying here in bed
trying to remember the softest parts of your neck
where I kissed you
and how your lips felt
pushed into mine
but the memory is fuzzy
and unclear.
I was drunk that night
and you were drunk that night.
You were drunk for the first time in your life
and to this day,
I feel as if I took advantage of you.
I feel like I stripped
some sort of innocence from you,
even though I know
that you were never innocent
to begin with.
I am starting to believe
that it shouldn't have even happened.
I am beginning to wonder
where we would be
if I had never exploited an imaginary innocence
that creeps beneath our clothes.
I am starting to believe
that that night was an accident.
But it is no accident
that when our bodies were pressed together,
our hearts beat in synch.
It is not an accident
that when I see you now,
my heart is suddenly filled with stones
and my airways are suddenly blocked.
They are blocked with that same innocence
I stole from you almost three months ago.
I guess you could say that this is only a crush.
But thank God it is,
because love fucking hurts
and how I know I would rather be crushed
than hurt you.