You're the Problemyou were never my best friend. best friends don't keep secrets (do they?). you were the closest thing to it though. you were fireflies in my backyard. you were the reason i stayed awake until 5 am. you were a flashlight, a candle, a lamp, whateverthefuck made it not so fucking dark in here."lets talk this out, letstalkthisout,letsTALKthisout" how am i supposed to talk when i can't BREATHE?you told me to forget the drugs, and that i'm the sweetest girl you know. but, i'm not big on dialogue, and drugs make me the girl you know.lead is falling from my hair, and i just imagined you were sitting on my floor, eating potato chips.(is it the drugs? or, is this just who i am?)i just cleaned up dog shit with a pair of your favorite boxers. i just threw my phone out the window (i won't regret that in the morning). i just laughed at myself so loud i woke up the old lady next door. i just jumped on my bed, until i couldn't feel my face anymore (the ceiling is so damn low).you told me
Accepting a drinkDoes this cloud-maned beauty seehow I ironed this shirt, pressing mercilesslyuntil the ionised water evaporated? Does heunderstand how long it took to shapemy hair this way? To cover the gapewhere my once-full coiff's now planning its escape?Did he notice my choice of a twenty?I had tens in my wallet. The drink cost two-fiftybut it looks like purples are all I carrythis way. Does this Pan, who probably fuckshis choice of uni intake buckssee my killer-sweat? The fluxhis lick of the lips casts? Of coursehe does, but it works. No lawsagainst flirting, grandpa. Can't forcehim to stop. He thanks mefor the double and coke, waits the customaryfive minutes in my company,then mumbles something about a songhe wants to dance to, and is gone,having left me a number a digit too long.