Do I * him?
He's everything I want,
everything I could possibly want in this world.

He makes me want more.

Somehow makes me need more of something he doesn't give.
That's what I * about him.

That's what I want,
* he gives so slightly.

He doesn't know the bipolar blur I am at 2am.
He can close his eyes as my restless ones focus on new upset.
I * him because he's not here.
He's not here to make me impatient.
He's not here to keep me intoxicated with lies.

He never was here, he never was mine.

I cling to him like the stale stench of alcohol on your drunk parents.
Our drunk parents.
Sometimes it wasn't the alcohol that messed things up.
I can assume his parents were proper,
did they * him, do they * him?
I never met them, I never will.

Our parents are ****** up - we share that at least.
He never told me, my best friend we both *d did.
She said it sourly to make me recoil into never needing him.
I needed him more.

When the time came that my dad came back I didn't think I needed approval anymore.
But I *d to know who would still care.
Of course he didn't.

He was the never * and to never * is the saddest thing of all.

He was the never love and to never love is the saddest thing of all.