I take what I can get.
I don't ask questions I don't want to know the answers to.
I lay with you and map the plains of your face with my fingertips and I think:
this face, this face--- this face that's caused me so much pain,
this face I've seen buried in the neck of another girl,
holding her tight and apologizing for me.
How odd that I can place my palm on something that was such a symbol of pain for me once.
I hold your hands soft in my hands and I think:
these hands left an imprint in my skin, a warm reminder and then a cold sting-
but now they are touching me soft, and your lips are kissing me soft,
and I take what I can get.
I don't ask questions I don't want to know the answers to.