It is nearly disappointing.
The words come naturally, the laugh, the smile in my eyeballs.
Why does it have to be this way?
Can it not be the way it was?
Can I not forget the like I found in you, and rest in yesterday's heavy unnoticed want?
That was fine.
This. This is nearly brutal.
I could be a mouse and this could all be a string.
And you are a man with a string.
I don't want to be a fucking mouse.
I just want a truthful balance.
Or wait, fuck balance. That doesn't matter
Balance was never essential.
Just the honesty, man.
Don't lie to me. I love you.