maybe that was how i ended up
sleeping with this redhead named bailey or kailey or hailey who i'd met at a coffee shop.
her nails scratched down my skin,
her hands felt the most intimate parts of me.

my mind was just dissecting the past five months,
how i let myself let a person in,
how i'd dropped a perfectly amazing girl for Bonnie who ultimately hadn't cared.

i left bruises on her hipbones,
hickies on her neck,
but i felt nothing.

later that night, i found myself drowning my sorrows in a bottle of jack.
and i pretended i wasn't myself for a little while,
like i wasn't a lonely drunkard with attachment issues.

but good news, i switched my seat at school
and i got back together with claire
and claire was real.
claire wasn't confused or against relationships.

looking back on it, Bonnie was just a phase,
she was just someone who i was convinced gave a shit.

but we weren't an item,
we weren't exclusive,
we weren't g a p and Chuck.

we weren't we.

she's Bonnie.

i'm Clyde.

and i'm content with that.