This isn't for the dancers dancing under the lonely streetlights with their partner, Jack Daniels coarsing through their pathetic veins
This isn't for you, sound asleep in your down comforters while your air conditioner sings to the household
This isn't for you, completely unaware of exactly how much you mean to me that after 4 months, I'm still crying every night
This is for me. For the one who can't cry herself to sleep because she can't sleep and for the one who can't "eat her feelings" because she can't eat. Yes, this is for the one who's heart is too big for her sleeve.