My

Distaste had settled onto my tongue,

Apparent in the corners of my lips

But censored by a wooly scarf.

The wind blew around my stockings

And I couldn’t begin to say aloud:

She’ll fuck up your life

Like all the rest before her…

We

Used to sit in the pile of leaves

And kid about the past mistakes

The stars seemed to encourage

Us leaning against cool bricks ‘til one a.m.

She

Can make room for you between her legs,

Not the chambers of her heart.

And her hands are built for rolling joints

So can’t fit into yours

The way that hands should lock.

Your

Eyes are closed, dancing inside

The retinas is an idealization of a girl

Who has nothing to offer that you couldn’t buy.

Do you love her ‘cuz you know who she isn’t,

Or because she knows who you are…?