If you were not so non-existent
and I was not so far gone
we would have made a wonderful coincidence.

You're everything any cliché could call logical
Your words- they flow throughout my blood
I'd prick my finger sick just to catch some of your bitter justice
You sing so softly into my ears

Begging me and telling me to lie
reminding me of writing on limbs by the sun drenched fields
August wasn't too far away

But you're too shy to sweat it out.
I'd place my hand on your heart
Bask in your love
Which you do so well

You are just so…
I am not your type at all
Infact I'm nothing like the type you prefer
It would, it will, never work.