we sit in my car in silence and i reach for the lighter but only because of the chance your skin might come in contact with mine. you tell me about her and i know she doesn't deserve you because she doesn't know how lucky she is to be in a bed with you, skin on skin on skin. i pour my heart out to you and when you leave we hug and you smell just the same as you did three years ago. you smell like poetry and the sunrise and endless youth.

i can't even write anymore because all the blood you spilled when you punctured my heart has flooded into my brain. my words come out muffled but on paper they just look like your smile.