I just need to lay down. And be quiet. And listen. And learn. And your beautiful eyes make me want to leave. If I had a choice I would rather be in love with the stars. Something you can't touch but can look at is better than something you can touch but won't look you in the eye. I want to write prose about the gap between my friends tights and the chafing between another's. (I don't love you.) I want someone else to miss your lips and tell you their secrets through mouth to mouth. God, you make me feel like an angel in hell. Can I lie about your honesties? You're not worth my time. One day I stood up and everything you told me fell down. But I already realize a long time ago that some humans aren't able to care for their own.