Empty voices in the backdrop circle around my personal space.
In my head a song plays on repeat, reminding me forever of this moment.
How could you do that to me?
Remembering when we set up a tent in your garage, turned off the lights
and listened to the rain on the roof.
Leaving me in an empty parking lot, water soaking my old cotton sweater.
"We're friends, right?"
How could you do that to me?
Wanting to leave the resin coated walls of your bedroom,
Yet having no one else to sleep with.
How could you do that to me?
You smell so clean.