i have never been so afraid of anyone
what a fascinating way to self-destruct,
to completely ignore that fight-or-flight instinct
(i would've chosen flight)
are you going to hurt me?
almost, not quite: i'll keep waiting
are you going to hurt me?
are you going to leave?

it was august and we were on the swings
and i wanted to cry, i did
i held you so tight and i have no idea why.
you brought so much of me with you
but i will never thank you for anything
it was august and you held my hand under a pillow
it was august and i stayed with you for hours
because god, oh my god, i don't like you when you're
angry.
it was august and i'm still trying to forgive myself for what i did