i want you to be some type of drug that serenades my aching bones into a deep sleep. my wants are not your needs and i want you, but you never needed me. even when you were crying in the urine stained bathroom and your lips were stinging because the salty tears had made a home in the cuts of your chapped lips, you refused to let me in.
don't think i couldn't hear your choked sobs over the music. any sound you made would create some type of reaction in me, so don't doubt for a second that that your body convulsing with sadness and screeching for help went unnoticed.
you are wet paper that people have tried to light up in flames. they have failed many times because you keep yourself drenched in sadness; never allowing them to be a part of your world. but i am not one of those people. i know that wet paper can only be folded a number of times to conform to the rules before it begins to lose it's original shape and it rips.
