You say you’ve got me, but you’ve had me.
You drink that beer, I’ll drink the black tea.
Gentle as a fawn, yet I smell like honeysuckle and heartbreak.
Things always seem to occur in threes; at least to me, that is.
I really thought you were actually genuine.
I never had a chance.
First one to caress my shoulders.
Keep my hand with all the silver rings warm with both of yours.
I fell hard.
Silence, then boredom.
You come crawling back across the concrete you so evenly laid.
Slithering really…. into my skin.
I fill up that syringe with these oh, so pleasant words and shoot.
I drown….I’ve been drowning.
The fawn’s turned into a junkie.
What a lovely junkie she is.
She’s just trying to get back. Get home. Get safe from the words you’ve probably rehearsed a billion and half times by now, in another place and another time.
You can’t have her.
No one can.