I almost wish you followed her.
Because then it would hurt
And I'd get over it
And we'd go back to being friends
But I'd be right.

I almost wish you followed her.
Because then you'd have fun
And I'd be fine
And we'd go back to being friends
But you'd be free.

I almost wish you followed her.
Because then I won't let you down
And you'd get over it
And we'd go back to being friends
But I'd be in the clear.

I almost wish you followed her, because it would be your fault and I won't be the one who hurt you.

But you didn't.
Because you don't need other girls
Because you have your own girl
Because you think you love me
Because you say I'm perfect
Because you have me.
So you didn't.

She collects shiny objects
And lurks in the dark

Flightless and alone
She stares at her collection
Wondering which one is her most prized possession

Crying out into the night
Cold and desperate
She decides to examine each object more closely
And let them examine her skin
In order to determine her favourite.

You'll be the alcohol that I can't get enough of. Burning, warm, addictive.

And I'll be the candy that always leaves you wanting more. Sweet, fleeting, and never enough.

Be as weary of Perfection as She is of You.


She'll become a craving, a need, a drug.

It starts off slow, until you get a taste.

Dark, inevitable, curious and sloppy; You get your first taste of Her. Casual and carefree, sloppy and fluid.
Blissful.

It picks up momentum when you go back.

Hopeful, deliberated, secondguessed and spontaneous; You get your second taste of Her. Slow and careful, foreign and desired.
Blissful.

It gathers speed when you stumble back.

Wanted, craved, longed for and dreamed about; You get your third taste of Her. Rushed and impulsive, lust-filled and needy.
Blissful.

It goes downhill when you are already waiting.

Anticipated, eager, excited and anxious; You get your fourth taste of Her. Explosive and passionate, raw and craved.
Blissful.

Gaining momentum and escalating further when you do not leave.

Built-up, painful, needed and difficult.
You get your fifth taste of Her. Rough and sharp, painful and needed.
Blissful.

Now you have the taste and it's no longer controlled.

Dangerous, destructive, unsustainable and fascinating. You want more of Her. Curious and captivating, different and the exception.
Blissful.

Inevitable in its destruction and absence when you fall.

Poisonous, addictive, toxic and intoxicating. You need Her. Craved and harmful, exciting and deadly.
Blissful?


Be as weary of Perfection as She is of you.

Your quick kiss is what I've been waiting for. Longing for. Lusting for.
The icy feeling pressed against my skin, sharp and needy.

I know you're no good for me, I tried to stay away. But the desire was too strong. The need.

It's been building for a long time. I needed release.
No more foreplay, I wanted to go all the way.

And I did. I finally gathered the courage, and I am enjoying the blissful aftermath.