there are some secrets that are what they say.
there are some that tuck back behind your earlobe and I am not obligated to say which ones they are,
as you are not obligated to ask.
but I will say I cannot tell myself at times, and then I have to ponder why I even know that this is even true; or how.

Look, buddy, I whisper in your ear, I don't want to hold your hand anymore. I don't want to touch you like I have, or share my apartment, okay?

you act like this is some surprise, like you never expected me to hate you eventually.
like I am totally ******* you right now.
you even have the nerve to laugh.
I know what kind of secret yours was, and I know what kind of secret mine was.

until you get serious I will not move, and when you're done I say, I'm done ******* with you and I'm done knowing you **** with me.

So this is my fault? you ask.

Now you are just being a ****. I'll give you three of five stars, okay? I say, and I let you figure me out on the corner of 7th and Mott.

Three and a half? you try, and you follow my across the street. C'mon, the *** was ******* delectable.

This is what I'm talking about, I tell you as my hair whips out from under my hat and I know my nose is red.
it is too cold to be fighting.
Nothing was ******* delectable, go shove your **** somewhere else, I'm sure you'll find it just as enjoyable. Because I'm finished.

I touch your nose gently and kiss your cheek.

I stand by my original rating. Three out of five, I say and I walk down 7th until I reach the corner.

*******! you call and I just wish people knew you were talking to me.

your secrets were exactly what they said they were, and that was boring as hell.
have I taught you nothing? keep them tucked in the right places.

you never know what you'll stumble upon.