You're just a scab that
I pick until it bleeds again
You're just a hole that
I stick my finger in
You're never going to
be what I need
You're never going to
see what I see
You're just a torn out
page in my history
You're just a generic
hard copy mystery
You're never going to
be enough for me
You're never going to
hold my curiosity
You're just a blemish
that I have to cover up
You're just the dirt
that I sweep under the rug
You'll never clean up
the mess you made
You're the stain that
will never fade

I didn't love him because of his looks.
I know this because the whole time I knew him his face was covered
By a blanket of red bristle he took great pride in.
I fell in love with his soul
The window to which I could see through smiling hazel pools.
And when I think about it,
I mean really think about it,
It all happened in an instant.
Not the instant him and I met for the first time,
But the instant I realized he wouldn't let me run away from us.
I should have known though.
I should have kept running.
Because the instant I stopped?
Our roles were reversed.