She makes me scream on the inside, But like, The good scream. The scream like the one you'd type out as "asdfjhkjgfdh'l;" The scream you'd exclaim for ice cream. That scream. That's a pretty good scream mate.
Drinking on the phone is still the same as drinking all alone. Put drinking in your poems, People won't think you drink to sanitize your wounds. People won't think you drink with no one else in the room.
I don't want to be on a leash, I swear I'd laugh if you come back to me. Though still there's a maybe, Maybe I'll accept defeat, Maybe I'll remain married, Just, to burning at your feet. Maybe I'll remain buried, Somewhere near 6 feet deep. Maybe I'm a zombie. Maybe I'm a creep.
Why would I have been hoping? I can't hold a job for more than a moment. What could I even ever end up holding. I have no hands so **** it. With a pen and a pad, Let's **** it.