i know what i can do…

but i don’t want to.

i just want to feel alive without you burning on the inside.

i see your heart,

can’t you see mine?

conversation creates stimulation, altercation, rejuvenation.

isn’t that enough?

i should know better.

why am i still surprised every time?

is my pretty face on my side?

i’d rather thrive than survive,

look good and exercise.

but then it’s harder to walk by…

without tempting some guy.

i’ll never understand why

we can’t

just

talk.