******* for thinking it's okay. You're self-righteous and you never really had a right, she doesn't owe you anything. Except some time. You'll end up watching how it crawls up your spine much too quickly; infects the days and spoils the hours. Rotten like every kid with a present bigger than yours. She'll call your words too lyrical, you're a hopeless romantic she'll have you know.
You'll spit romance up in bloodfroth and it'll gush from the wounds you placed here yourself. You just wanted a battlescar, now your skin feels rubber from all the healing. You used to be beautiful too you know? That was before their time. When the landscape was godless and your mind less of a dump. Infected and spoiled; it's rotten now, like every kid with a present bigger than you'll ever have.