"identity; it's priceless.
entice us. a crisis inciting, exciting, and frightening . . .
butterfly feeling inside the both of us.
a joke to us? it never was.
this joke at most a joke because we're broken up.
thus, i've found a way to bore inside my head to get the knowledge out.
falling out of line in and line out.
is college out? it must be.
a professor - confessing, professing her undying love.
can we please just work this out?
cause lately i've been down and sounds around my mouth are complaining about my pride.
i'm proud . . . too proud to admit i'm totally lost without you and i.
why i cry and i shout, and cry in the mirror at myself when i'm thinking about your touch, your kiss.
the way we used to hold hands.
all of this, i miss.
you being mine and i was yours.
being my world. being my plan. being the reason i can wake up in the morning to cope.
to stand up for myself when dealt a shitty hand by my mother or friend.
offend and win or be offended again . . .
i sin to myself. my own right hand.
my hands plot mutiny to sacrifice my heart to you again.
so, i wish i had a way to stay close . . . take your heart away.
a way to let you know how i hurt.
do you think of me?
tragically, i only think of you.
please think of me . . . solely, wholly.
holy shit, i'm rambling. gambling; life.
stressed like this. dressed like this in sorrow.
heartfelt moments missed and lost from pointless existences.
pillow talk?
i meant every word i said and fed into your trap,
trip wire, snare you set for me in bed . . .
and when i CAN get to sleep and dream.
i dream of you through. no genie. no white christmas.
this is a silent scene of ME AND YOU.
i'm crazy about you. literally insane.
you've made your mark. framed. picture perfect lips on mine.
fingertips. every inch. picture this: picture perfect images burned into the back of my brain.
and i feel so alone, in crowded rooms without you.
you're all i can think of . . .
stand up and touch my folding hands.
give me death or give me plans?
give me hope, just . . . give a damn."