For a moment you didn't notice
And my fingertips felt the broken ridges on your skin
Then you pulled away, and I could feel your heartbeat in the air -
No one had ever touched you that way, I'm sure
And I was tempted to say, "sorry,"
But then I realized that I wasn't.
Should I have asked permission?
It's the spontaneity, I think, that made it real
There was no filter then between us,
My head on your lap; your hand in my hair
Almost so intimate that it's grating to put in words
Because its meaning is lost in translation.
I never thought I'd write again but the gates have opened
Or, rather, the cracks have burst
So the sourgrass can grow
Like a **** making its living in a parking lot
Struggling against the tar
But always
Always breaking through
Given enough time
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
For a moment you didn't notice
And my fingertips felt the broken ridges on your skin
Then you pulled away, and I could feel your heartbeat in the air -
No one had ever touched you that way, I'm sure
And I was tempted to say, "sorry,"
But then I realized that I wasn't.
Should I have asked permission?
It's the spontaneity, I think, that made it real
There was no filter then between us,
My head on your lap; your hand in my hair
Almost so intimate that it's grating to put in words
Because its meaning is lost in translation.
I never thought I'd write again but the gates have opened
Or, rather, the cracks have burst
So the sourgrass can grow
Like a **** making its living in a parking lot
Struggling against the tar
But always
Always breaking through
Given enough time
From the beginning
This is what I wrote
That I refused to show her because I was too insecure
Unedited
I've changed now
For better or for worse
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