Cred

Your hand covering mine. Your breath on my ear, whispering low. If you were here, I'd bury my face in your chest and breathe you in. I wonder if you wear cologne. I like to think you do, so I could spritz some in the air at saks when I'm having a sick desire to hurt myself, and imagine you close to me. But we did get close, didn't we? Closer than either of us had probably intended.

We both made mistakes. Yours were more deliberate, I'll give you that since you seem to want it. I wish we could talk it out, plan another date, one where we smile, laugh and flirt— start over. But it seems you don't want much more than fboy cred. So I'll give you that, babe. You've earned it