i blurt out poetry and you ask me questions
i wish i could just keep going, keep the conversation flowing
but your intimate words terrify me.
we are nothing and this reminds me of the guy before
even if you don’t think of me as just a score
its who i am, ill never be more
i always make the same mistakes, seems like i never learn
at this point ill take anything,
even a weekend of meaningless lust
just to feel wanted
to tell myself I’m loved
even though i know its not
its not love, its not lust, its sex
but i do what i have to, to get the attention
to get the kind of affection
that will make you put me on a flight
I’m taking self-destruction to a new height
even if its just a weekend
even if we are just friends
anything is better than nothing at all