I don't think this is love
I would never agree to doing any of this with anyone else and even though I kept saying no you kind of went on anyway and your tongue seeped acid as it climbed up my neck and it felt great

I've always experienced 'love' over state lines and divisions of area yet when the distance between us was but 2 inches it seemed that our love shifted shape

what was love? was it your tongue beating against mine or your hands lowering down my body as we hugged? was it me wanting to drown myself in your presence or me trying my hardest to please you while keeping promises to myself?

love is strange in that some days I am completely head over heels for you and others I want nothing to do with you.

I never really felt that anyone loved me but they were great at spewing words of artificiality. after a while you stop believing it but you appreciate the effort.

I used the word love too early in life and I've heard so many forevers that they lost their sparkle and they mean nothing

I seem happy                                         I don't feel
I am lazy                                                I have no will to care
I have it all figured out                        I am utterly lost
I have a hundred friends                     I can't find one that's authentic
I believe in God                                     I have faith that constantly wavers
I have a loving family                          I think that's a great joke
I don't care what people think            I am paranoid and pressured
I am sweet, kind                                    I am a cruel, selfish, heartless *****
I am another girl                                   *I am not real

We live another complication everyday,
Adding another thread to bind us.

It's been so long...
Can't move my wings, my limbs--
How did I get stuck?
Did I do this to myself?
The *puppeteer is pulling too hard!
I want to move,
But I can't
I'm twisted up,
The thread is too tight;
I can feel the dread of suffocation on the horizon.
I'm trying, I'm fighting,
I want to be free!
But I can't move anymore...

The thread won't let me,
The strings are being pulled too tight--
My prison, it cuts into my skin,
I can barely breathe enough to live on...
I want this suffering to end!

Aah! Yes...
I remember now,
I took the thread of my own free will!

It started that day...
When I heard them speak,
I did as they asked,
And the thread wound around me.
I didn't ask for answers and didn't speak of my questions;
I kept on going where their path lead,
And I ended up here:
Suffocated, stranded, in naïve ignorance.

Even though the puppeteer wants me to move,
Even though I can feel his anxiety to help;
He can't do a thing.
The thread has been wound too tight,
*If the thread won't snap soon,
I will.