Saturday, September 24, 2011

the high won't hurt you here

A million rocky roads. It seems that you're clinging on to me with such dearness it surprises me. I know I hit you right where it hurts with all my ugly words, my true feelings about our state hanging densely between us. Why haven't you escaped from me and my words like daggers? Looks so curt they hurt, shooting across at you over the dinner table. If you think you are so much better than I am, why are you so insecure? YSL with YSL boy, the true story of my life. Greatest irony of all time would be that you can't even trust me. This is your fault you know that right. It seems the only real time we have together is when we're lying in my bed, sleeping effortlessly till the morning light streams in and you have to go. And I think I've ruined it with the truth. Our legal highs tangling our brains to think that it's okay to share. You and your feelings for me and me and my feelings about you. Life. You and your endless disappointments. In my head, when it's good it's grand. When it's bad, it's annoying. Money isn't everything sweetheart, especially if you don't have it. What truly surprises me (and this makes me sounds ridiculously cocky) is that you even dare to piss me off on such an ironic day. The annoyance I felt coursed quickly through my veins and coupled with alcohol, leads to an all too familiar situation. I begged for nothing to happen but of course, you promptly appear by my side to guard what's yours. Perhaps the most epic part of the evening was when we were sitting by my sidewalk waiting for the coast to clear, a fucking mirror image of myself two years ago with the previous boy.. and on such a night! I am beginning to draw an eerie similarity between you two.


Dark room baby,
I follow you

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