your room's a color palette of black and blue at 2am (i never knew that before) it looked a lot like the bruises i never thought i'd see again because i've spent the last few years cleansing myself from your fingerprints who would have guessed even after i erased all trace of you - no maps on my skin or landmarks on my body - your hands still knew their way around and mine did too. the familiar weight of your name burned heavy into my tongue. but the taste was different from when i was 15 and i realize that, before now, i never knew what your mouth tasted like when it's coated with alcohol because, like your lips, all I knew back then were coca-cola and barely-dates and stolen kisses between bookshelves. between breaks and between break ups. i've grown up since then, never guessing that eventually we'd find each other - no, not that - what we have always needed each other to be between sheets instead.
please give this second chance a good name
