an opportunistic kind of phase,
laughing about trying to save face at the party
where all your friends are so cool faded off liquor we found our
eyelids getting heavier,
we shared a brief look and just gave ourselves to the night we'll just fight to be the ones we hate we rose in the morning
confused by what we were mourning
for some things are better left in the adolescence of youth do me a favor she said,
"i'd like you to savor the taste of me on your lips,
i swear it's the last that you'll get." grace do you want me, grace till you die.