Loving you is simple, but leaving you is harder than it should be.
/
The marks on your body – that scar from where you fell, five years old and running head-long after one of your brothers, rocks embedded into your skin – the marks on your body, old cuts and ancient wounds, places where reckless actions made you pay… and I kiss them like I kiss your lips.
I kiss the places where you got hurt and it shows.
And you let me, head lolling back like you can't hold it up, and you let me tarnish all the unblemished patches of white.
You let me bang you up in the most beautiful way.
And I kiss you like I've kissed so many others.
I kiss you like you were always meant to be kissed.
/ /
Who are you to come in here and fuck up my plans, hmm?
Who are you anyway?
I don't stay for anyone. I don't stick around for girls like you. I don't open that door once I shut it.
And who are you to ask things of me, hmm?
Who are you anyway?
Just a wisp of blonde hair in my fist, just a hip pushing at my side, just a hot gasp by my ear… that's all you'll ever be to me.
/ / /
I know about you, I've heard your name shoved around and I've kept my gaze on you ever since you walked into this bar and you are not as innocent as you seem and I know it.
But the quarters come out of your pocket and click on down the slot and you are way too content to dance by yourself and you are way too comfortable in this place, this place with all these drunken eyes on your back as it curls and extends, as it rolls and snakes about.
Oh, I know about you.
I've heard your name, followed by a laugh or two, ending with a sneer.
I've kept my stare two inches below your chin and three inches above your chest, steady watch upon your neck and when you swallow, I do the same.
And you are not innocent, not at all. Too many folks know the taste of you and too many folks know the sound of you sneaking away before dawn… you are not innocent, not one bit.
And I know it.
So do you.
/ / / /
Who are you anyway?
Who are you to speak about the past like that, hmm?
I don't recall those moments and I don't remember those days and I don't recollect those hazy daydreams like you do.
Who are you anyway?
And who are you to make demands of me, hmm?
Just a Polaroid picture in my glove box, just signature in the back of an old book, just a heart carved into a tree… that's all you'll ever be to me.
/ / / / /
The marks on your body – you bruise so easily and yet you beg me to hold you down and I want to refuse you, not out of consideration, but out of spite and I don't like the way you have wormed right back into my soul like this… and you kiss me like I've been waiting to be kissed.
Your teeth tug on my lips and your tongue fills me up and you press against me like the wind.
You do your best to take me over and you do.
And it's not you I don't want to hurt anymore.
It's me.
I don't want to hurt anymore.
God, don't hurt me anymore…
/ / / / / /
Just a girl who I loved, just a girl I love, just some damn girl… that's all you'll ever be to me.
::END::