sincerely, me.

Oct 24, 2005 20:29

Love is fucked up.

Not only is it screwy, but intriguingly messy at the rate of permanent.
It would've been the lesser devil if the clutters were like Crayola stains on the wall -- something I could wipe off. Or broken glass I'd sweep off the cold floor.
I would honestly settle for anything I could fix with my hands.

But not pain. Not this pain that goes beyond and under my own skin.
Not another time to choke back tears, thank you.
Not the loss of sense. Or direction.
Not fear I can't push down.

I know it's probably gay that I sound like a quitter, and there are times I could have pronounced just that by taking the quick way out.
But to let myself up and leave is multiple times shittier than all of the above.

You and I, love -- candidly, we're f-ed up.
There are probably thousands of things that lead to the assumption we're unstable together. There will always be that question of life being lighter -- with a plus called 'maybe', and a fork in the road named 'maybe not'.

But my money's still stays on plain maybe.
And my faith still stays with you.

estrogen

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