Memory Lane

I don't remember how we met
I just remember how the first night I went to your house you showed me your record collection
Like you were some kind of cool kid for having a rare white record
I cut my hair after that night
I couldn't stand the fact that you'd touched me
But I couldn't cut my own skin
I'd promised someone I wouldn't do that anymore
On my way to work sometimes I'd drive past your apartment above the flower shop
It's a little out of the way
But sometimes I'd have time for memory lane
I don't anymore

Author's Note

I don't really know what I'm doing. It's 4 am and I'm bored and my mind won't stop and my boyfriend is asleep.