Trigger

[If you ever find out who wrote this, do let me know]

You decided at a young age that love wasn't something you wanted to get messed up in, just like the way i thought about drugs. We've both had a few close calls, but nothing major. Nothing life changing.

Friends for sale don't interest you. It's give and take and you do neither. I wonder at how figured out you seem to think you have youself. Let my sentence structure fuck you up. This is just a story about love, anyway. Nothing you'd want to touch.

It's hard to choke yourself when your body focuses on breathing so hard. Holding your breath from the day you get out of this stifling town. Imagine what it's like to be me; I came here years before you and I'll leave here after you.

Years down the road, you and I will never meet. We will never pass by in the street and recognize the new lines in an old face.
I'm going to go ahead and force myself into your veins. I'm going to go make it so you never forget that I was alive. Close your eyes, I bet my image won't decay. Press my lips to your cheek and whisper that this is it.

I had the courage to do so long ago. Back when the ice wasn't so frozen, my blood shook up like a million tiny pinpricks under my skin. This will happen again. The clock is shattered but it ticks for both of us.

Back when you were younger, you promised never to get mixed up in someone like me. Someone who would try to wrap you up in the tangled tape from a mix she made, someone whose veins pump something other than normal.

Talk one more time and I swear I'll shoot.

This is me with my trigger finger tensed.