you're my boyfriend, and i love you,
however i shouldn't feel this way.
i feel like the hand me downs your mother gave you,
you'd rather the new clothes, the ones you want.
not the ones you're stuck with.
i feel so alone, i convince myself i feel better with you
but that's not true
that's some unhealthy euphoria we learned to call love .
every night i lay in the soft stained white sheets of my bed
and contemplate how fast we're fading from each other.
while i lay there coping with loss by smoking and self harm.
i cant help but hope there's a way to save us.
but just like every other time.
i give up.
it's never worked before
why try now?
