. . . . . 

the first indication was when you said you liked that band

that screamed bloody murder about sex and contraband

you sang along to the song as if the words were innate

you looked at me expectantly not knowing the music held a weight

 

an anvil on my chest helped remind me of the time

he turned up the music loud enough to stifle the shriek of his crime

the yelling through the speakers left me paralyzed and petrified

i held my eyes open wide until the memories had dried

 

then we got back to your place,

 

when your shirt hit the wall a little harder than intended

my mind traveled back to the time that i pretended

it didn’t hurt when he punctured holes in my chest and in the plaster

i shook as my heartbeat pounded faster and faster

 

how could i tell you that your grip felt like his?

and it’s really not your fault, that’s just the way it is

how could i tell you that the color of your bed sheet

is the same shade as the one that got caught around my feet?

 

i couldn’t,

so we went and got mcdonalds 

while you showed me your favorite song by slipknot