this is stupid.

(together)
i alternately spout philosophical jamesdean shit and
cuddle up to you to close my eyes and sing petty little
bonnie raitt blues songs to you when i know you're
not listening.

(apart)
i alternately spout philosophical backstreetboys shit and
spend my evenings trying to figure out how to tell you
the truth. the words come so much easier when i know you're
not listening.

day one --
meant nothing to me except for a lovely little
First Date Syndrome and

day two --
left me spouting more philosophical shit but
just the same i kissed you hello/goodbye

day twenty-one --
you held my hand and i didn't pull away

day seventy-three --
you told me you loved me and i thought "shit" but
all that came out was "okay."

yesterday --
i fell asleep in your arms kissed your hesitant mouth and
you helped me to the car in the absolutely freezing rain

today --
you held onto me and i knew you thought i was your girl
but rather than spout philosophical shit i just wished that
i had a cigarette and
didn't look you in the eye.

i told them that i would set you straight and
explain that i was not your girl.
you listened to every word but the right ones never come until you're
not listening.