Do you remember throwing your shadow on top of mine
With our bodies backlit by soft lamps in a bedroom as bare as you and I were?
Do you remember making abstract shapes with our skin
Once water and oil, now as mixed as time and tide?
Do you remember laughter?
Do you remember smiling?
Do you remember saying, "I don't care what happens to a single fucking soul as long as you're alive"?
Do you remember any of this?
Do you remember anything at all?
Or do you just say, "What an awful way that we killed time"?
You had always been draped in something I couldn't recognize
The texture was unfamiliar, the shape was too obscure
And it fit you like a long heavy chain
I tried to pull it off but it broke my wrists
I tried to love it but it burned my skin
And when you saw that it had hurt me
You took it off but something stayed
I watched whatever you had carried sit there waiting
I saw you naked and ashamed
Knew that no matter how painfully tight the piece had fit
Sometimes it's the only thing that fit your broken frame
It's a stupid fucking game, by the way
This reaching and letting go and reaching and letting go
The second I've got you in my arms
I loosen up and count to a higher number than I did the last time
Giving you a bigger head start than the one you had before
Is the thrill really in the chase?
Or is it in remembering how perfectly you were shaped before you finally shut the door?
I held you in my palm gentle, like you'd crack at any moment
Unaware that you were a brilliantly polished stone
But the smoother the stone, the easier it slips through
And the easier it is to throw