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Description
I got in the shower at eleven fifty, hoping to finish by twelve. when i came out in nothing but my favorite red heels, dripping water onto your hardwood floor, you asked me what was wrong.
i wanted to wash all the youth off me, so i can be mature enough for you.
did it work?
you told me to get a fucking towel and clean up the mess, so i did, and you didn't. answer me, that is. all i could think about was the first time i layed in bed next to you, and you were smoking and you said it wouldn't be the end of the world if my lungs filled up with water and it sure as hell wouldn't be the end of you.
You want the whole truth? I seriously debated what it would be like if, on my drive home this evening, my tire flew off and my car wrapped itself around a tree. almost as if it were a gift. happy birthday to me. strange though, right? what if, what if, what if i could have been seventeen forever? and you told me that was stupid, why would i want something dumb like that. and i said because i never wanted to grow up. so you said i should, and slammed the door in my face.
so, now, i'm sitting here with a birthday cake in front of me, dripping water onto your hardwood floor. all the lights in the house are off, and i'm the only one here. so i blow out the candles, and, secretly, i wish that i could wash all the youth off me,
so i can be mature enough for you
to come back.

Description
I got in the shower at eleven fifty, hoping to finish by twelve. when i came out in nothing but my favorite red heels, dripping water onto your hardwood floor, you asked me what was wrong.
i wanted to wash all the youth off me, so i can be mature enough for you.
did it work?
you told me to get a fucking towel and clean up the mess, so i did, and you didn't. answer me, that is. all i could think about was the first time i layed in bed next to you, and you were smoking and you said it wouldn't be the end of the world if my lungs filled up with water and it sure as hell wouldn't be the end of you.
You want the whole truth? I seriously debated what it would be like if, on my drive home this evening, my tire flew off and my car wrapped itself around a tree. almost as if it were a gift. happy birthday to me. strange though, right? what if, what if, what if i could have been seventeen forever? and you told me that was stupid, why would i want something dumb like that. and i said because i never wanted to grow up. so you said i should, and slammed the door in my face.
so, now, i'm sitting here with a birthday cake in front of me, dripping water onto your hardwood floor. all the lights in the house are off, and i'm the only one here. so i blow out the candles, and, secretly, i wish that i could wash all the youth off me,
so i can be mature enough for you
to come back.