Delinquent

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The first time we met was at a party. I went outside for a smoke, you went out for some fresh air. You were tipsy, I was wasted. I don't remember much from that encounter. You remember the way I kept flirting with you while you silently wondered about my tattoos. Neither of us know how long we were talking out there, but we both know I was taken away by some girl. I smiled at you and said good night; I didn't even notice the sadness in your eyes.

The second time we met was at an award show. You walked up with some guy and said hello. I was coked out, but you didn't know. I remember calling you cutie and the boy put his arm around your shoulder. We all stood there awkwardly until you broke the silence. You asked me about my tattoos. I showed you all of them and you frowned when you saw the one that says "God's dead". I laughed, and when you looked up at me your frown went away. Like seeing me laugh made you want to smile. We stood there smiling at each other, then the boy grabbed your hand and led you away.

Now this is the third time we meet. You're alone and so am I. You look at me and say "Hey, delinquent."
This time you'll remember the way my lip piercing feels against your lips, and I'll remember the way my arms feel wrapped around your waist.

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