i lay on the cold ground
cement pressing into my back
and i think of how it's a cruel joke
that we fight in your car all night
when we used to lay in fields
until dawn,
caressing each other because
we needed raw, skin on skin contact,
immediately,
not because it was convenient

i don't know what happened
that made your eyes harden,
but i can't look at you knowing it's not the same
and knowing that you won't ever hold me at midnight again
and i can't be with anyone else,
because when you kiss me it's like a tightrope connecting
your lips to my lips,
my lips to every nerve ending in my body,
but somehow i still have to question whether you love me
because i can't love you like i want to
so it all
means
nothing