If I stripped all of my prettiness away and showed you the darkest parts of my heart
would you still want to stay?
It’s exhausting trying so hard to be liked.
I want to be loved.
And for more than just the way I look naked and tangled in hotel sheets.

If I fall in love with the comfort of having you around and you fall in love with the shape of my body in your bed what do we really have?
Paint a picture of our lives thirty years from now and what do we have but dried up lust and wrinkles on our forehead?

Ours is not the rocking chairs and coffee on our front porch kind of fondness.
It’s the late nights and two bottles of wine and the dragging our feet to ripping the band-aid off because we both know where it’s headed.