living in a bombshell close to her heart,
you're the luckiest cricket i've ever met.
grasshopper hasn't learned a thing, though,
have you? living a life like you're dead
living alone like you're alive, with her,
you promise yourself forever
only to give it up today, tomorrow.
you're a smokestack full of ashes,
blackened on the inside,
empty-souled and heartless
only with that hole in your chest you do
love, care, for everyone but
me.
i just can't win, but you're still
living in her ligaments, her soul,
i worry that you've sold yours
and soon you'll sell her's, too.
(although i think she's already traded it in
for a copy-paste heart and
red magic shoes.)