Friday Nights and Secrets

One night on a Friday when you're drunk again, you'll text me. And we'll be

talking about nothing 'til the whole room spins. I'll be lying on my back

with my hands where I wish yours were. Tracing fire on my skin where

I want to feel you burn. And Saturday morning, we'll fuck it

all over. You can act like there's nothing, like we don't clutch when we

lock eyes. Pull your gaze off my mouth like it's some kinda crime.

You can fake that you're steady, that you're cold, that you're made of stone.

But your silence is screaming louder than my phone. Yeah, yeah,