I am sixteen,
the night air is cold against my bare thighs,
I gaze up towards the sky while my hand is trailing along the railing.
It is a clear night.
I close my eyes and feel the smoke fill my lungs;
feel my heartbeats slow a little,
feel the anxiety take a step back, 
I exhale and open my eyes.
I can hear the shower running,
can hear him move around -
I want his scent off of me,
want to wash away any traces of him still lingering on my body,
need to scrub his prints off my skin,
but I don’t want to join him.
I wrap the blanket tighter around me
the night air is making me sober up,
faster than I want to. 
Maybe I should leave before he comes back
sneak out like a shadow, a phantasm;
lets be honest
we all got what we came here for. 


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