The casual contact is what kills me the most
Because I hate fucking casual

Almost as much as I hate your cashmire skin
Or your face that makes me feel so sick
Or the disgusting words that come out
of your revulting mouth
In that voice that I hate even more than your skin

My stomach shouldn’t be this twisted into knots
But it is

And all I can think about is how I’ll always be second best
Because my kisses aren’t soft enough to keep your smile from breaking
My hair isn’t long enough to hide the shame in my face
My touch isn’t hot enough to melt your heart
And my eyes aren’t bright enough to make love go blind

I shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts
But I am

I’m too restless to run
My intentions are never good ones
And I think you knew that even before I did
Shame on me for being passionate
But I guess I’ll never learn from my mistakes.

I shouldn’t feel this out of place
But I do

Just suck it up
And spit me out
While we pray for the possibility of an all-forgiving God

Quick.
He isn’t looking.