start the car up
it's cold
i can't feel my feet next to yours anymore
eight hands
one grip with shoes off
sunflower fields
my own toy in a box
take 9: cold showers, hot towels
pints of ice cream labeled
very rocky road
lace against my skin you bought
to feel pretty
pretty imperfect next to you
a jacked up truck
the shocks your hands as you slap me
back into a ghost town of my personal
jacob witch trials