There are times when I want to ban these kinds of songs from my life, to never listen to them again, to turn away, to forget all about them.

Other times I'll play them over and over until I've memorized every facet, every detail, every snap and twitch.

Me, You, and three others. It was September. The night bus was late. You ran with my purse, around a corner, away from them. I chased after you. You fought me off while I yelled and you laughed. You backed me into the concrete wall of an apartment building and leaned into me. I could hear your breath, quick and hard, like mine.

The bus is coming, they shouted.