And then she decided to stop loving the nice people,
She began to prefer the company of the outspoken ones,
The ones she knew would hurt her,
Because the nice people, the ones that seemed too good to be true,
Usually weren't,
And nothing cushioned the blow when you didn't expect it

And she thought,
Maybe that wasn't the way to live,
But it was the way to survive

There is nothing romantic,
Nothing beautiful,
Nothing insightful,
Nothing strengthening,
Nothing poetic,
About missing you
It plain *****.

How are you?
I'm good. What about you?
Fantastic

How was your day?
Not so great. Yours?
Oh I've seen better

How's it going?
Pretty well actually, how about you?
Never better

Do you see?
I ask about you,
So that I know about me
And you thought you're being pathetic!

I've come to think,
When you place someone on a pedestal,
And make them aware of it,
Even if they deserve it,
There's a burden you've placed on their shoulders,
A certain responsibility,
To live up to your idea of their being,
You stop them from being human,
Yes,
Placing people on pedestals
is an inhuman act

It It began with my broken, shaky, nervous words,
This friendship,
Then you made it a song,
My broken, shaky, nervous words have resurfaced,
But I guess only you know where that's coming from

It has two kinds,
One, does not end - a perennial wait for you;
One, bound in a moment - wrapped in your embrace

You are mine
Not a posession
But mine - an *extension