i held your hand like a prostitute in love
washedup like a drunken preacher
too crazy to understand the words on your lips
too unaware to take my rightful place on stage




and yet we moved with grace.












you're like cheap pornography in a child's mind
intriguing;
butdeepdown
as equally disgusting








and you know that i really don't give a damn
about your flaws
even though i pick them out

because in the end, it makes me feel like s*** on the inside

and you love it.










you're like that some days.
staging clueless when you know
everything
like why i don't drive in the rain
why i call at 2 in the morning
why i can't fall asleep without your voice



and why i can't write whenever i'm happy
because i lie to myself.
I am happy.












you're like a carnival ride;
a rollercoaster

i'll write out our ups and downs
the cause of us
and the effects of







a simple glitch in the tracks.