you remind me we're just friends.
Because the way you trace me with your fingers
doesn't feel friendly.
You say you can see through my front when I told you I can't feel.
But it's not a front.
You say i'm delicate because of the soft greenery engraved in my skin.
But I am hard and I am cold.
You won't sit by me,
because you don't want me to catch feelings for you.
But as I sit far away from you and take a drag,
I know you don't believe any of your words.
I know you weren't describing me,
you were describing yourself.
