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Description
Thirteen.

    Coffee grounds; freshly rolled tobacco; Axe; body sweat; that's what you smell like. I don't like the taste of coffee; I can't stand the smell of cigarettes; Axe gives me a headache; and who actually likes to sweat? You smell, and taste like everything I can live without. I suppose so many negatives make a positive. Who would think that a combination of everything I can't stand could comprise a person...it doesn't matter. It never matters.
     Now: I'm sitting here alone, and words aren't coming easy, but they're not being that difficult. I'm alone in my head; a place neither of us like to be. It's cold outside, and inside; I guess I just can't really win, but it doesn't mean I won't try. This is my attempt. All I have are these words; using a keyboard so spent the a and s has worn away. As Bret Easton Ellis said; 'I've always known it was going to be this way'.
     I could use a cigarette right now. Sometimes the idea of filling up my lungs with smoke is appealing. Sometimes the idea of getting sky high feels pretty alright. Am I really all that alright?
    You came in with the night; and left with the morning light. These days are getting darker; our evenings are drawing longer. I don't sleep anymore; actually, I never slept before...but now it's all these words choking up my brain.
     Four weeks ago; nothing was the same. It hasn't even been four weeks since dumb luck and chance wormed their way into our lives; more like three and a half.
     “The streets of Saratoga are dead.” No one has said it better than you right then. Though I felt this way before; and I feel it now; it was never so electric until it rolled off your tongue and out of those lips.
     “I have a way out.” Whispering against my ear in the dark. Defiant, and certain, but defensive.
      “I know and I commend you for it.” A quiet voice; sullen tones.
       Do you know I've been thinking in thirteens since the night I fell into your sight? “No one likes the number thirteen, but it's my favorite; I think it's lucky.. that and sevens.” Telling me in the crowded streets of Saratoga; streets later defined as dead. Smiling at your remark; but thinking 'thirteen, black cats, shattering mirrors means seven years of bad luck.' Thirteens have been following me since.
        Seven o'clock; sitting alone.
        Seven o'clock; some nights I don't want to walk alone.
        'There has to be a reason we keep on running into each other.” Mentioning during the trek to the apartment.
        “There is a reason, and it's called boredom.” You replied.
        All these bits and pieces are coming, and blurring. I didn't mean to speak out of turn. All that I hear are my own words; your eyes staring up; a little less than bewildered. It's November nights like this that always leave me left alone to wonder. People need to learn to hide better.
        Taking your hand and placing it in mine. No matter how distant I try to be...and it still doesn't matter; no; it never matters. All it takes is just a brush of the lips. “This is a mistake.” If you were listening more clearly you would have heard 'please don't do that again.' Instead you took my eyes with yours and whispered: “Tell me no.” When I couldn't..
         Flipping through those notebook pages. I read those lyrics, I skimmed the scratches. Your voice in the background; singing along to the guitar could have never been louder than those words on paper...all equating to the same thing: i'm lost, i'm  falling, i'm sick of life. Sitting in third person; I; watching with an omniscient eye.
         “Is something wrong?” You ask with clear heft.
         “No, nothing is ever wrong.”
        “I know that's a lie, but I'm not going to pry.”
         You bought a one way ticket; and though I knew this day was coming...forget it. I'll kiss you with closed lips; and ignore the words spilling out of my pores. I won't give you the chance to understand, because I'm sure it shouldn't matter. I am a brief spark in a fireplace that's use to thriving flames.
         Pulling us over; listening to me rant.. “I'm not the kind of girl you can just mess around with and leave.”
         “No, It wouldn't be fair to you.”
          Somewhere between ranting, and raving your lips found mine; and those kisses became soothing. That's how you pulled yourself into me, however, ever since that night on the bench you've been living under my skin. For five nights in a row I would whisper over the receiver 'this is a mistake, you know it's a mistake'; you'd apologize; i admitted 'i say you're a mistake so you won't be.' It all boiled up from that night on the bench to that night in your car; with all of your baggage in the backseat; you had me right in the front seat. With your past just a finger lift away; all those problems a thumbnail away.
        Thirteen times I've felt your body with mine. Thirteen times...
I told you it's been keeping me company.
         There have been mornings when I thought I would never be back sleeping on that couch. For three hours I'll think I'm right, and then I'll run into you. It's uncanny how you always seem to pop up in view. There's been nights where I can't sleep by your side. Where I listen to you toss; where I listen to you turn. When you fall asleep your breathing is heavy and languorous. At first what caused me to panic lying next to you became familiar, and right.
           With your arms wrapped tight around me I'm able to sleep for the first time in a while. I wake up only for a few seconds to feel you  kiss my cheek; and it's worth it. In those moments, it's worth it.
             “I'm a little intoxicated.” You say, and then kiss.
             “You taste like beer..” Alcohol and cigarettes sweet on my lips. Sometimes you're just a walking vice.
               I'm surprised you haven't picked up gambling, or sleeping around as one of your hobbies. Last time I checked eighteen year old girls really don't do it for boys in their mid twenties. Yet we hang around each other...because.. as you say.. we're bored.
               There's a one way ticket back to Boston in your pocket. It doesn't matter, no, it really shouldn't matter.
                “Besides I'm not dating you; i'm just sleeping with you.” Jokingly spoken, but bitterly tasting. As funny as you think it is; sometimes a joke just isn't that funny anymore.
     Later in the night with your face against mine. “Besdies.. all we do is sleep together..” Biting off each word; jagged as they leave my mouth.
      “I was kidding.. you do know I was kidding.. did you think I was serious?” No, that's the obvious answer.
      “I'm a girl, I get sensitive.” An easy response. Besides, why should you care? All we do is just sleep with each other. Eighteen year old girls really shouldn't do it for twenty-five year old guys.
       With my arms wrapped around your chest I'm really whispering “Don't leave me here.” I have grown attached to someone simply unattached; and it's just too perfect to print. As Bret Easton Ellis said 'I've always known it was going to be this way.”
        “If you ever need to find me..”
         “I don't normally go through that much trouble for a person.”
         Besides, you're sick of always getting what you want.

Description
Thirteen.

    Coffee grounds; freshly rolled tobacco; Axe; body sweat; that's what you smell like. I don't like the taste of coffee; I can't stand the smell of cigarettes; Axe gives me a headache; and who actually likes to sweat? You smell, and taste like everything I can live without. I suppose so many negatives make a positive. Who would think that a combination of everything I can't stand could comprise a person...it doesn't matter. It never matters.
     Now: I'm sitting here alone, and words aren't coming easy, but they're not being that difficult. I'm alone in my head; a place neither of us like to be. It's cold outside, and inside; I guess I just can't really win, but it doesn't mean I won't try. This is my attempt. All I have are these words; using a keyboard so spent the a and s has worn away. As Bret Easton Ellis said; 'I've always known it was going to be this way'.
     I could use a cigarette right now. Sometimes the idea of filling up my lungs with smoke is appealing. Sometimes the idea of getting sky high feels pretty alright. Am I really all that alright?
    You came in with the night; and left with the morning light. These days are getting darker; our evenings are drawing longer. I don't sleep anymore; actually, I never slept before...but now it's all these words choking up my brain.
     Four weeks ago; nothing was the same. It hasn't even been four weeks since dumb luck and chance wormed their way into our lives; more like three and a half.
     “The streets of Saratoga are dead.” No one has said it better than you right then. Though I felt this way before; and I feel it now; it was never so electric until it rolled off your tongue and out of those lips.
     “I have a way out.” Whispering against my ear in the dark. Defiant, and certain, but defensive.
      “I know and I commend you for it.” A quiet voice; sullen tones.
       Do you know I've been thinking in thirteens since the night I fell into your sight? “No one likes the number thirteen, but it's my favorite; I think it's lucky.. that and sevens.” Telling me in the crowded streets of Saratoga; streets later defined as dead. Smiling at your remark; but thinking 'thirteen, black cats, shattering mirrors means seven years of bad luck.' Thirteens have been following me since.
        Seven o'clock; sitting alone.
        Seven o'clock; some nights I don't want to walk alone.
        'There has to be a reason we keep on running into each other.” Mentioning during the trek to the apartment.
        “There is a reason, and it's called boredom.” You replied.
        All these bits and pieces are coming, and blurring. I didn't mean to speak out of turn. All that I hear are my own words; your eyes staring up; a little less than bewildered. It's November nights like this that always leave me left alone to wonder. People need to learn to hide better.
        Taking your hand and placing it in mine. No matter how distant I try to be...and it still doesn't matter; no; it never matters. All it takes is just a brush of the lips. “This is a mistake.” If you were listening more clearly you would have heard 'please don't do that again.' Instead you took my eyes with yours and whispered: “Tell me no.” When I couldn't..
         Flipping through those notebook pages. I read those lyrics, I skimmed the scratches. Your voice in the background; singing along to the guitar could have never been louder than those words on paper...all equating to the same thing: i'm lost, i'm  falling, i'm sick of life. Sitting in third person; I; watching with an omniscient eye.
         “Is something wrong?” You ask with clear heft.
         “No, nothing is ever wrong.”
        “I know that's a lie, but I'm not going to pry.”
         You bought a one way ticket; and though I knew this day was coming...forget it. I'll kiss you with closed lips; and ignore the words spilling out of my pores. I won't give you the chance to understand, because I'm sure it shouldn't matter. I am a brief spark in a fireplace that's use to thriving flames.
         Pulling us over; listening to me rant.. “I'm not the kind of girl you can just mess around with and leave.”
         “No, It wouldn't be fair to you.”
          Somewhere between ranting, and raving your lips found mine; and those kisses became soothing. That's how you pulled yourself into me, however, ever since that night on the bench you've been living under my skin. For five nights in a row I would whisper over the receiver 'this is a mistake, you know it's a mistake'; you'd apologize; i admitted 'i say you're a mistake so you won't be.' It all boiled up from that night on the bench to that night in your car; with all of your baggage in the backseat; you had me right in the front seat. With your past just a finger lift away; all those problems a thumbnail away.
        Thirteen times I've felt your body with mine. Thirteen times...
I told you it's been keeping me company.
         There have been mornings when I thought I would never be back sleeping on that couch. For three hours I'll think I'm right, and then I'll run into you. It's uncanny how you always seem to pop up in view. There's been nights where I can't sleep by your side. Where I listen to you toss; where I listen to you turn. When you fall asleep your breathing is heavy and languorous. At first what caused me to panic lying next to you became familiar, and right.
           With your arms wrapped tight around me I'm able to sleep for the first time in a while. I wake up only for a few seconds to feel you  kiss my cheek; and it's worth it. In those moments, it's worth it.
             “I'm a little intoxicated.” You say, and then kiss.
             “You taste like beer..” Alcohol and cigarettes sweet on my lips. Sometimes you're just a walking vice.
               I'm surprised you haven't picked up gambling, or sleeping around as one of your hobbies. Last time I checked eighteen year old girls really don't do it for boys in their mid twenties. Yet we hang around each other...because.. as you say.. we're bored.
               There's a one way ticket back to Boston in your pocket. It doesn't matter, no, it really shouldn't matter.
                “Besides I'm not dating you; i'm just sleeping with you.” Jokingly spoken, but bitterly tasting. As funny as you think it is; sometimes a joke just isn't that funny anymore.
     Later in the night with your face against mine. “Besdies.. all we do is sleep together..” Biting off each word; jagged as they leave my mouth.
      “I was kidding.. you do know I was kidding.. did you think I was serious?” No, that's the obvious answer.
      “I'm a girl, I get sensitive.” An easy response. Besides, why should you care? All we do is just sleep with each other. Eighteen year old girls really shouldn't do it for twenty-five year old guys.
       With my arms wrapped around your chest I'm really whispering “Don't leave me here.” I have grown attached to someone simply unattached; and it's just too perfect to print. As Bret Easton Ellis said 'I've always known it was going to be this way.”
        “If you ever need to find me..”
         “I don't normally go through that much trouble for a person.”
         Besides, you're sick of always getting what you want.