(-untitled-)
[spamano]
words:: 136
disclaimer:: I grow tired of saying I own nothing, however . . . I own nothing.
If I act like I don't want it—
(the constant attention, the caring words, thebeautifulburninglove)
—then maybe I won't.
Because even if he seems willing to give it all to me,
He can't possibly mean it.
He's there for me, yes,
But only as a friend
Never as a lover
Because who could ever love someone like me?
Someone so temperamental, and violent, and uncaring?
Who could ever love someone who curses at and hits anyone who dares to try to come close?
Who could ever love me?
No one,
Not even him.
So whenever he tries to come close,
Giving me everything I want
(the constant attention, the caring words, thebeautifulburninglove)
I turn away,
Yelling and cursing,
Pretending not to care.
Because
If I act like I don't want it,
Then maybe I won't.
notes from the author::
Once again, there isn't much to say about this.
Next: Spain's point of view.
Review, please, or the next drabble-thing is going to be held hostage.
