Cashmere

The cold night was ironic;
You were cold as well
(Your hands always were)
And your face was tired
(Sick of your damned father,
His drunken rampages)
I took matters into my own hands
Shaky and undeterred
(Oh god, what am I doing)
We smoothed the wrinkles on our shirts
(Your cashmere is so soft)
Then whispered prayers
Into each other’s eager mouths
(I thought I’d regret it,
Though I’ve been wrong before)
How naive was I to think
That 18 years could pass by
Before seeing life in color?
(This dreary hue of gray
Makes the sky look fair and pretty
Much like your warm eyes)
Once I found solace
I could never go back to living
In the life previous
(Thank you for changing me
Thank you for freeing me from myself)
As we breathed our common breaths
We forgot for a while
That life wasn’t fair
(We’d rather love than fight
We just didn’t realize it)
And decided to take matters
Into our own docile hands
(If I forget this night
It will be when I die)