I'm looking at the drum you bought me, this beautiful Djembe drum. You bought it for me because you saw how I lost myself in the rhythm that night at the field party. I remember the warmth and glow of the fire, music blaring from someone car, the hum of people laughing and talking. I remember the pill you took and the man you got it from, I remember after you peaked you called to one of your friends "have you met my girl? This is my girl" and how I never wanted to be anyone else's again. I remember our tent in the corner, and making love all night, I remember getting up at 6am and walking in the dewy grass letting the sun's rays warm my completely bare skin. I remember riding home with you and your clenched jaw from coming down, I remember everything; and I refuse to forget.

Laying on the bathroom floor.
I feel everything.
I feel nothing.
I need to cry.
I cant cry.
What are you doing to me?
Why are you trying to ruin me?
My eyes are shut, I cant see.
But I am glad I am blind.
Nothing to feel bad about.
Nothing to admire, no doubts.
Why do I write?
Why I am not to sure myself.
Its a high I get without a smoke.
This bathroom floor feels so cold.
So nice, so alone.
But what do you do in your alone time?
Leave it in the comments.

Much than the stars infatuate at nights
Does her dark skin through the lattice of her top
We bereave the nights
Instead we sneak peak under the sun
There ,she achieves utmost pitch in giggles
I trail ,fall and then fail