Honey avoid the barbed wire (it tends to sting But sugar you can handle it, rather you than him right?)

For him you would bleed yourself dry

And that's the thing with pretty things like you,

Tripping on metaphors, recalling quotes as you drink down alliterations and black coffee

And you still don't know what you mean

Stumbling in and out of fairytales and Forget-Me-Nots.

An S.O.S on bathroom stalls and maps to old revivals carved into peter boy's backs

& there's still that kiss at the corner of your lips that I'd die for (you) but I'm tied to train tracks like the track marks raw and itching up your arm

Because sugar (I always hated artificial sweeteners) we have built our worlds in enemy territory

Screaming into bathroom mirrors

"You are my perfect enemy"

And I grin back mascara tears and bleeding lips

-& I do this all for you