It was the song booming from the speakers around us that made our meeting so special.
13 months later, as you walked out the door of our one bedroom **** hole we called home, I finally figured this out.

You said it was the black dress I wore with such little care.
Whispered softly to me back in those days when love was found in the never fully touching infinity signs
I traced with my tongue on your skin.

It was some new aged electric mix my friends had found for when we were rolling.
Telling the story of a girl plagued by desire for someone she loathed.

When you first said "I love you," the subway roared by, and you thought I hadn't heard.
The second time I was only pretending to be asleep.

When I finally let you crack me open, you looked around and smiled.
I felt more beautiful than I really was, and I told you I loved you too.

You climbed inside of me night after night looking for yourself.
Your lips are still burned on my skin from the fire they created.

I found that song we danced to when your eyes met mine for the first time.
It's playing for you and if you can hear it, know my skin might crawl when I look at you,
but it's your treacherous touch I crave.