private conversation
what happens when i half don’t want you anymore
when i wake up with your things strewn across the floor
and my first response is to throw them all away
until i see you and i leave it for another day
we stay together more out of habit than of taste
hoping things will improve themselves so we can save face
thinking every moment — is this when it’s gonna end?
half hoping that it is, to save this downward-spiral trend
i stay awake at night with your body next to mine
half repulsed and half knowing and almost totally resigned
to failing to say or speak my mind
i worry and think and hope that you’ll be fine
i’d still like to taste your lips
savour the texture and tang of your kiss
feel your hands run over my neck
as mine stroll down your chest.
– some words stolen from hit the street, an earlier poem by moi. this one’s turning into a song, though.
