LOTS THAT'S WHAT
You don't know me, at all. And I'm starting to think that you don't actually care that much. About knowing me. Or about anything to do with me. And maybe I expect too much. No, I do. I expect too much. I need too much. I need a lot of tea, and a lot of...knowing me. Why can't you just know me? Know me.
That would make this easier on me, and my well-developed tear ducts, that you can actually work out, much like an eagle's ciliary muscles. I would much rather write another bio exam tomorrow than a math exam, if anyone's keeping track. Or score.
Maybe I shouldn't have barreled. I barreled.
Barrel rolled.
Head first.
My ankle got caught on the door.
Now my Achilles tendon hurts.
That must be why.
Mustn't be for lack of new running shoes.
No.
And my head told my heart:
"Let love grow."
But my heart told my head,
"This time, no,
This time, no."
No comments:
Post a Comment