I tell myself that the feelings are for me
(those feelings of you pressed against me
inside...
my head)
I tell myself that I crumble because I let go
of the crumbs keeping me together
and not because you squeezed the moisture out
(by putting the moisture in)
I tell myself that my kisses always taste sweet
and that my hunger for you isn't what makes them
addictive
(the other girls couldn't
wash the taste out of your burning
mouth)
I tell myself that I'm seeing you tomorrow
but I - **** this
I can't wait.