Loose strands of hair fall over his thigh.
It's not a metaphor.
I am giving myself to a guy I love.
Tell me it's okay.
I'm hoping to fall into more than just your lap.

Rolling hips and bruised lips.
Have I been before?
Dignity seemed to be more of a factor then.
Maybe if I drown myself in hatred,
I'll look more lovely.

I'm only begging for you back;
the way I'm doing it is necessary.
You loved me once,
so what's the difference now?

Don't be blind, my love.
It's so obvious that she can't
love you like I do.