They talk about their relationship problems
Like it's nothing.

My body is a pine tree,
I am more plant than I am me.
I am driven to read, driven to love,
They are driven to ****.
My body is a book,
My binding never shook,
Pages never read,
So many words running through my head,
And all they want to do is touch.
All they do is touch too much
And I a made for talking and to look,
They are stories, and I am but a book.

My body is asexual,
Is a plant and an amoeba and
I do not exist.
They want me to look for more than
A person to trust, to hold hands with.
I look for love where they seek lust,
And they never meant for that to be real.

They talk about their relationships like it's nothing
Because it is,
To them.
It is empty.