dear _,
                         i can't imagine.
no way to believe i
  could sweep you off your
                                                       feet.
you don't want me.
but i think i have to
ask anyway. try.

i hardly know you. and
i'm scared to try anymore.
                    i have
                    a wine-stained
                    mattress headache
                                            hell.
ways to look at this place
           that would make you
           ache and shake and hurt....
it's hard to want to
share or shed that.

i ask for the chance to lose.

                                              give me
          cold and shivering; i'll
               give you what's left.