looking back we might have been too young, but your tongue was cold and you looked so sweet as the winter sun started setting. i'd always hated the long freezing nights but your mouth made dark 5 p.m. feel less like suicide.
mostly because your skin brought back the innocence i'd lost. despite your drugs and my lying and the sick way i was set up and ready for death, you were clean and made me purer. i don't know how you did that.
and now years have gone by and i can't stop thinking about that time you fed me strawberries. the gentle touch of your hands, palms fitting exactly where my body curves. you'd never loved before, but your certainty was baffling. no pubescent awkwardness, no hesitation.
you simply knew, and sinning with you felt forgivable. the taste of fruit lingers.
