and it's so god-**** cold i can't breathe i want you to know that i want you to be here when i wake up, in case we both freeze. i pull you closer, for warmth, to me and i want you to know that i want you my sweet whispers like chimes in the breeze.
it wasn't really that cold but i pretended and you went along so you turned all the lights out in the house and came to bed and after, you had fallen asleep and i got up... the floors creaked and it was so ******* cold my feet ached and i got up to write and listened to sad records and pulled on my sweater and wrote nothing
you wanted louder so i increased the volume and let my emotions fend for themselves you wanted softer so i released my fists and took blows that i did not deserve you wanted more so i stopped speaking and let so many things slide that i would not have tolerated before but you asked & asked and my love for you would not let me refuse so i became less of me and more like your idea of me…
you wanted true love for ever so i said okay and now i hide behind your ideals
it was cold and i was waiting for you in the car and i would wait for as long as it takes until my hands wouldn’t work and my breath was ice because i love you but it’s cold and i wish that you would hurry
like smoke and flame and all the things that people always say and about how “where there’s smoke there’s fire” and how it’s difficult to decide which to be or become and if one is really better than the other no one ever tells you that life can (and probably will) kick the living **** out of you for as long as you’ll let it no one ever talks about how heavy your soul and insides can get if you allow yourself the time in the dark and how you’ll get to a certain age when you look around and want to scream at anyone who will listen, anyone older than you “where the **** were you?” “where the **** have you been!?” and “why didn’t you say?” “why didn’t you tell me what to do?” “or how to be?” “how in hell could you let me decide for myself… when i knew absolutely nothing… about anything!!?” “where were you?” and you’ll feel like drowning or something simple you’ll feel like just the air in your lungs just the breath in your lungs is enough like smoke or flame and all the things that people say can never stack up to all that they don’t
you have taken up the habit of ending all of our conversations by saying “touché” leaving me with the sense that i have won something and lost absolutely everything
my eyes were wide open when you pulled the trigger but i said love like i meant it so all is fair my pockets were empty when you put the barrel to my head but you said love like you meant it so...
and it's figurative or metaphor so it's not as serious but just as dangerous because i gave you the gun and all of the bullets and i said love and i meant it so all is fair so shoot point blank in my face
my eyes will be wide open when you pull the trigger but i say love like i mean it so all is fair
you get me and that's not true at all and every time i say the stuff that makes me me you scowl or roll your eyes let's fumble through the *** part and get it over with 1 **** i don't need your life story i don't need a date to prom you get me is it true? at all? i just need you to validate the parts of me that make me me when i speak you seem uninvolved or somewhere else let's just stumble to the *** part my hands on you, your hands on me 1 good **** i don't need reality i don't need you you get me– you don't get me at all and you can't find love in a bathroom stall