desperate measures
I made a case for being friends in the warm afterglow, even when my blood turned to tar. There were just too many haphazard, improvised, impoverished states of hunger and wishing you would speak of me in carefully chosen words.
It's an awkward debacle bound to mar, I know it, I see it in the throes of cathartic misgivings, waiting for an embrace without promise
Oh, love, you would destroy me.