I lay on the cold tiled floor,
my heart is empty,
drowning in my own tears,
clothed in white,
ripped, blood-stained, mud-painted.
The snow didn't fall that night, though it was winter.
We were warm inside.
You were half way across the room,
I was on the couch with a friend.
You made the first move.
It we knew each other a year and half,
we hardly talked,
never saw each other,
yet still you were on my mind.
A month and a half ago,
I asked you out in a bar,
I made the first move this time,
and I'm glad I did.
You found me on the cold tiled,
you lifted me,
and held me in your embrace.
You stirped me naked from my sinner's past,
you cleaned me with my tears.
And told me you loved me