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The bottle tipped up just a smidge, 

And then a lot more.

I think you were getting more on yourself, 

Then in your mouth.

But I saw that slight frown,

Right before that bottle hit your lips.

But you were looking at her. 

And she was looking at him, 

And I was looking at you. 

The next day you rubbed my back.

Because you “owed me”.

But I was wearing your shirt, 

And it kept crinkling under your hands. 

And you would stop every so often, 

To fix what your dragging fingers have done.

For some odd reason, 

Your skin on mine.

Felt a million times better,

Then you rubbing the knots out of my back. 

You left burn marks on me. 

And I feel them when I lay in my bed. 

They are invisible to the human eye. 

But that raised skin has a story to tell.

So you sit home,

And think about her.

I will sit here,

And think about you.

And it will be an endless cycle.

Because I know

There will not come a day.

When you are laying in your bed.

Thinking of me too.