Her eyes glistened Not unlike the moon Or rain drops When the clouds Parted and let The sun through Her skin felt like Warm honey A feeling You couldn’t Quite shake And her lips Tasted; almost The same Her words were Like ash in the breeze Effortless and Memorable A sound sure To please
I hate you but I think about you Sometimes when I’m Alone in bed I think about Your warm embraces And the words we Could’ve said
I hate you but There’s certain songs I can’t listen to Because they were ours And I remember All the words But they don’t sound right Without you
I hate you but I still get the urge to call And tell you all about How my days been And chat away About everything And nothing
I hate you but I hate that we Didn’t work more Because maybe In another lifetime Across another shore We might’ve worked out You might’ve loved me more Than I hate you
I don’t want to admit it But I’m waiting by the phone Waiting for a text or call Saying you want to come home But I’m just waiting Waiting waiting waiting Why don’t you come
I’ve cried in more dressing rooms Then I care to admit, I had the feeling that It wasn’t the clothes; It was me that didn’t fit. But we aren’t supposed to all Conform to “off the rack” shapes And grow and skink so that Our clothes can accommodate. We are supposed to be The standard they set. Our clothes should fit all of us So that we can feel our best Don’t let those numbers intimidate you: You’re the standard to be set. That’s what the clothing industry Hasn’t figured out yet.
Message me I want so badly for you to message me Anything, I just want to know That at least once I’ve crossed your mind And you couldn’t resist the urge To reach out to me I want so badly for some sort of reassurance That, to you, I didn’t mean nothing