Jul 2015
Don't you understand? I'm the careful girl who sets her alarm three hours early to guarantee she won't be late. I'm the girl who's scared to use boxed hair dye because there's that one percent chance of a fatal 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 see's terms and conditions as guidelines. The boy who drinks every-night because though it's drowning your liver, it's also helping to haze your vision to the flipping pages of the calendar. The day's won't slow down, but your comprehension of it can -and you can live each-night like it's endless. It's harmful comfort has you addicted. A lazy Sunday night is a day wasted; responsibility and real life has never left you feeling as triumphant as that seventh shot of *****. You welcome chaos because it keeps your mind from straying.
Recklessness has a fault, and it's 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 my tired eyes skimmed, and my heavy heart begged, and so I downed a glass of 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 you're screaming that there may not be a tomorrow. I've read your terms and conditions. but experience and knowledge are two separate things my naive brain hadn't yet learned at the time. There's more to words than bold letters -there's more to you than bottles and messy hair.
There's a careful girl holding a full bottle of fine wine deciding whether or not to open and down it, or place it in a cabinet to gain value. Thinking that maybe a few sips wouldn't hurt. And who knows if they did? She can't remember.
[NJ2016] All Rights Reserved.
You're the boy who see's terms and conditions as guidelines. The boy who drinks every-night because though it's drowning your liver, it's also helping to haze your vision to the flipping pages of the calendar. The day's won't slow down, but your comprehension of it can -and you can live each-night like it's endless. It's harmful comfort has you addicted. A lazy Sunday night is a day wasted; responsibility and real life has never left you feeling as triumphant as that seventh shot of *****. You welcome chaos because it keeps your mind from straying.
Recklessness has a fault, and it's 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 my tired eyes skimmed, and my heavy heart begged, and so I downed a glass of 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 you're screaming that there may not be a tomorrow. I've read your terms and conditions. but experience and knowledge are two separate things my naive brain hadn't yet learned at the time. There's more to words than bold letters -there's more to you than bottles and messy hair.
There's a careful girl holding a full bottle of fine wine deciding whether or not to open and down it, or place it in a cabinet to gain value. Thinking that maybe a few sips wouldn't hurt. And who knows if they did? She can't remember.
[NJ2016] All Rights Reserved.
