A Counter-Balance of History

I thought I had won the war
When you showed up here the other night.
Though your eyes were blank and skin was foreign as a distant shore.

I thought that ceasefire would hold
When you touched my lips the other night.
Though your hands stayed cold.

I thought we had lost enough
When you grabbed my wrist the other night.
Though your breath was ragged and your voice was rough.

I thought you had stolen all of me
When you left me there the other night.
Just a counter-balance of history.