**** it.
**** me,
To say you're sorry.
To make me glad
After an argument that's made me mad.
Hold my hips
And pull my hair,
Stick your hand in my underwear.
Mouth on mouth
Muffled moans
Hand on mouth
And squirmy toes.

Forget the flowers,
I want a kiss.

This is an apology
To make up for all the arguing.
I'm sorry
I'm not gentler
Not what you need
Not patient
Not relaxed.
I'm sorry I'm spiteful
And I get hurt so easily.
I'm sorry for yesterday,
The day before.
For the times I'm argumentative.
That I don't like bowie.
Sorry for when I'm sad
And when I make you feel bad.
When I pity myself
And get jealous.
I'm sorry.

The distance is spreading wider.
Remember the days when you liked her,
Liked me.
When we got along.
When we didn't need to be alone
To cope with being apart.

Get so upset
Text your ex.
Feel so broken
You're drinkin and token.
Hurt so deep
Weep and weep and weep.

This is the life cycle.
The story behind every pair of sad eyes.
I've run out of ideas.
I'm this close to exploding.

What's wrong?
Why so sad?
Why so mean?
We've still got six months
Left of our sentence.
But you're stuck in isolation.
You don't hear me.
You're not listening.
We don't talk,
We yell.
We don't discuss,
We shout.
These bars have hardened us.
They'll be no niceness left when we're
Released.

I'm too busy looking for people to be lonely with,
To enjoy my own company.
I'm ******* thrilling,
And if you don't agree then perhaps you're not stimulating enough for me.

Independent.
One thing I've never been accused of being.
Because I'm a leech that clings and feeds.
A moth that hovers too closely to things that singe its wings.
I'm this omnipresent mass of sadness and tear filled eyes.
But independent?
No.
I'm not that.