Don't Ask Me_DeadHands

Small couch
Dirty nails
And your glasses rimmed with
Tingly fingers
Wait, these aren't those usual glasses
I'm stuck back in that reclined position
No matter how hard
I fight
I couldn't really taste the
Spice on the shrimp
Or the salt on the popcorn
Stitches and cherry ice cream
I put mousse in my hair this morning
It doesn't feel particularly right that you hit each pressure point
Doesn't feel particularly wrong either
I saw those flames and gunshots
Last night
I felt like jumping out of my seat
And lowering my eyes
Please don't ask why
I did last night
Please don't ask about the
Way I glanced back
Waiting for the car
I rebelled, I rebelled!
Until I realized your honesty
I can only be my own

I can't shape the words
For razor blades chopped and swallowed
An arm always around my shoulder
But the seat next to me was vacant
You jumped in to occupy my mind