no amount of painted
lips       and     dusted
cheeks will make  him
    fall     for      you

let me play with your hair and adore you, allow my touch on your skin to linger on

I’m sorry baby but I’m the stars and you're the moon, you will always love me and I will always love you

and doesn't he make you feel special,
the way he wraps his arms around your waist,

too bad that feeling is wasted
and anything but special

i'm restless and unwonted, i don't think that's what you want.
no one really does.

*******,

we're going to spend so long ******* around that by the time you actually decide that you want something from me,

I will have found someone else.

I need to find someone else.

who won't

say one thing,

and do the other.

who is exactly my type,

and is nothing like you.

I'm sorry your soul calls to mine like the wind through the trees, gently whistling my name as you pass by

I wonder sometimes what
you think of me

if i'm crazy or beautiful
is it one or the other?

"poor little rich girl,
with her pretty face,
her well-off parents,
her mental illness,
and all the *****, drugs and hair dye she wants.

you'll
be
fine"

the lump in my throat grew,
pulsating,
larger,
and larger,
i feared i would choke to death
on the internalisation
of my own emotions.

I want to reach inside you

I want to

touch the

darkest parts of your soul

never dull yourself so that someone will blindly fall for you. you're iridescent and anything less just isn't you.