I want to live my life backwards,
so that the things that I say will come out right.
I've been spending my time sober in a place that doesn't exist,
and in the end I forgot everything because I was blind(ed).

I'm glad he remembered how good of a kisser I was,
because I didn't forget how good he was either.
He asked me why my hands were so cold
and I said the feeling must have seeped from my heart.

The night went on, we acted like cousins.
It was bitter, but I sat and waited for it to taste good.
His hand was clenched with a fist full of my hair.
We were silent. I felt comfort in his grasp.

We walked, our legs untangled and silent,
the sparkles in the street made the breeze control my heart,
and my legs screamed, burning for more,
begging for closeness, yearning for someone else's skin.

I tried to explain how I felt, but things always come out like pearl laced clouds,
and I don't want my pain to be beautiful,
because that somehow makes it okay.
At one point you realize that it's easier if you just stop caring.