(no subject)
You're a stranger, just as you've always been and I honestly can't say I want you to be anymore.
Anymore than what we've become to each other. Which is nothing. A tip toe beckoning waltz
where no one wins in the end. I thought you said you don't dance. So you tell me to say when
but you never fill me up after feeling me up. I go home empty handed anyway. With or without you I'm alone either way and I don't understand your asking me to stay. I'm only a little more than nothing to you. And you are amazingly a little less to me. The mornings after our meetings I wake up bruised; my chest and thighs scattered with worsening shades of blues. Maybe I should finally see you as what you are. Maybe I should equate these sad hues to more than I do. The things you whisper in the night air make me quiver but as soon as our pants are up and buttoned I can't remember the words. I don't understand selflessness in the nighttime from someone so selfish in the day light. I remember stomping my pride and carrying it on the sole of my shoe like something you’d chewed up and spat out. And I couldn’t get rid of it. I couldn’t stand the weight of it all. I carried your voice in my ears, your face on my eyes, and your tongue in my mouth.
I walked into a crowded bar and swore I saw your face. Curtis approached me and talked about a whole lot of nothing while my body shook from nerves and my palms got sweaty at the thought of having to pretend I was cool with the girl you were with. But you weren't there. You never really were, were you? The pink on your cheeks was an illusion and your hands across my thighs were wishful thinking. The way you smiled meant nothing to you.
You were better in my dream last night anyway. And you touched me real. You touched me true. You touched me you.
Anymore than what we've become to each other. Which is nothing. A tip toe beckoning waltz
where no one wins in the end. I thought you said you don't dance. So you tell me to say when
but you never fill me up after feeling me up. I go home empty handed anyway. With or without you I'm alone either way and I don't understand your asking me to stay. I'm only a little more than nothing to you. And you are amazingly a little less to me. The mornings after our meetings I wake up bruised; my chest and thighs scattered with worsening shades of blues. Maybe I should finally see you as what you are. Maybe I should equate these sad hues to more than I do. The things you whisper in the night air make me quiver but as soon as our pants are up and buttoned I can't remember the words. I don't understand selflessness in the nighttime from someone so selfish in the day light. I remember stomping my pride and carrying it on the sole of my shoe like something you’d chewed up and spat out. And I couldn’t get rid of it. I couldn’t stand the weight of it all. I carried your voice in my ears, your face on my eyes, and your tongue in my mouth.
I walked into a crowded bar and swore I saw your face. Curtis approached me and talked about a whole lot of nothing while my body shook from nerves and my palms got sweaty at the thought of having to pretend I was cool with the girl you were with. But you weren't there. You never really were, were you? The pink on your cheeks was an illusion and your hands across my thighs were wishful thinking. The way you smiled meant nothing to you.
You were better in my dream last night anyway. And you touched me real. You touched me true. You touched me you.