So you think I'm cool, huh?
Witty.
Lovely.
What gives you the right to form those opinions?
Who are you to enjoy my presence?
If you really knew my desires,
my thoughts,
you'd know I'd rather be left alone.
Actually,
I'd rather be mauled by rabid tigers
than see the appreciation on your face
or to hear you laugh at my words.
They are not for you,
none of it is.
You can be mine
if you wish,
but I can never be yours;
I would cease to be myself.
I'd be smothered and sweaty,
and really,
I just want to drive as far away in the opposite direction
windows down
hair slicing my face
until you no longer exist.