i have nothing to offer you but the words on my lips.
i'm not funny or witty.
i don't paint or take pictures.
i can't sing you a song from center stage.

there is tragedy written across my thighs,
and much of the same can be reflected in my eyes.
there is pessimism and irrationality in much of what i say,
and most of the good things get pushed away.

i'm nothing special, but i'm far from average.
i'm difficult and take things to the extreme.
but i would love you until the ends of the earth.
my bite is so much worse than my bark,
and lately both have come into play.
i complicate everything i do;
i feel like nothing is ever as easy as it seems.

i constantly trade one addiction for another.
my vices are what keep me grounded.
you are my favorite vice, my favorite addiction.
for you there will never be a replacement.

every word you say makes something in my heart sing.
you are the only one i'd ever break my rules for.
you are the only one who would ever understand what i say,
especially when i don't say anything.

but nothing this extraordinary lasts forever.
and something this strangling has to end.
so i did what i did and when i knew what i did,
you knew. that's all that matter.

i tell myself, one day.
one day you'll see.
by then, it'll be too late for me.
but i sleep just fine,
and meet my own eyes in the mirror.

if you knew me at all, you'd see.
see that the last thing i was thinking of was me.

but i think for now, we'll call this chronically unfinished.
maybe when i'm dead, i'll know how this ends.