I felt the distance in the rhythm of the strings as you played, the sadness in the "you look comfortable"
I knew this is what the fear felt like,
All those stories about the boy who never called you back
Rushed into my head like a wave of "
you were never good enough"
Then every story I've heard, brought memories of frantic girls asking me for advice, for help, I want to go to them, I understand now.
 How the want, fills you with echoing,
The voices gasping in the darkness
The curiousity, not knowing what another hand touching you feels like.
Part of you eager to know, nervous in your buzzed state