Been feeling outta place.
Like my safe space was the right side
Of your bed, closest to the window.
Chilly air makes my voice hoarse so when you say you love me I just let it hang there.
Like the last time I saw me was in the reflection of your eyes illuminated by a fifth street tail light.
I’ve been reminiscing on 15 in the back seat of your brother car, never be that kind of high again but it’s better that way
Because if we did you’d just leave me feeling out of place in a room clapping for the girl wearing my dress.
I had six years of practice but June still feels like ash in my lungs
Letters burn but they give off no heat.
Now we’re face to face and you tell me you feel outta place.
