Don’t you understand? I’m the careful girl who sets her alarm three hours early to guarantee she wont be late, the girl who’s scared to use boxed hair dye because there’s that one percent chance of a fatal allergic reaction. I’m the girl who gets sick every morning because anxiety tells me that i “might mess up something today.” I’m the girl who reads the fine print, the terms and conditions, because one time i didn’t, and i got hurt.

You’re the boy who sees terms and conditions as guidelines. The boy who drinks every night because though its drowning your liver, its what you used to fill an emptiness that’s now addicted to it’s harmful comfort. You’re the boy who sees a party as a release from responsibility and real life, a lazy Sunday night as a day wasted. You’re the boy with messy hair, tired eyes, and a tired heart. You welcome chaos because it keeps your mind from straying.

Cause though you’re reckless, you never were with love. Your heart is a liquor bottle that was indulged and tossed to the side by girls too drunk to understand that glass breaks. And glass cuts.

I always read ingredients before I consume, but i wasn’t thinking before i tasted you. So now here i am, the careful girl, and here you are, the reckless boy, caught in one world that’s both hazy and precise.

I’m trying to handle you with care, but youre screaming that there may not be a tomorrow. I’ve read your terms and conditions, but disregarded the “more terms below,” and found there’s more to you than i thought.

this careful girl is dealing with a reckless boy with a careful heart and I’m not sure whether to place the wine in a cabinet, or just down the bottle.

All Rights Reserved. [NJ2015]