Time to time, I'm rocked by the vision of you in free fall, with the rain all caught up in your d.i.y. haircut, coffee, cigarette, scotch, whiskey, cheap beer. That's a memory and this is the truth, because this isn't really happening, and I was there for that moment.

You were the night that snuck up on me and I wanted it, but never thought to ask. You penetrated the last of my innocence, and never forget. You snuck in through the last vestiges of a romance that isn't so romantic, underneath, that punk rock dream come true, that hideaway from what we're doing to ourselves. Rain on a window and a dim room, dirty sheets, smell of humanity in the air (and cigarettes). Quiet that feels dead and invisible and too good to be true, making the days come easier, responsibility no longer something to be taken personally. I used to be that girl.

Since you I'm tougher. Somehow, in hating you, I got infected by you. Saw the truth. Can't beat 'em, join 'em. It would take a geological man to make me swoon the way I did over you.

Tonight I've got no need of having my hand held in the dark - I know the sins now near as well as you. For a while there, you had me going, crushed out and strung out on spite. Now we're even.