I've burnt all ten fingers, trying to get your thoughts out of the toaster. You say you like boys, but you also enjoy girls. I'm so confused with myself. I love you, more than the light that goes off right before you close the fridge. And that half empty patch of grass we use to sit & talk for hours. We're not bestfriends anymore, I can tell by the way you shyly smile. Or the way you remeber me naked but don't say a thing.
I wish I could kiss all the insincere, goodnights off your lips.