sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me
and yet, i am still not
brave enough for this love story.
rainy nights, streetway lights
words that soothe but leave a bite
over and over, try as i might
it seems that i will never be right.
at least not to you,
in all your glory
memories and afterthoughts
are all that's left to our story.
so, unfortunately, love --
I will be gone by morning.
I will be changing
and you will be scorning
mourning, yearning, but never learning
that I am worth more than your shit ass definition of love.
Bye.
