He said life isn't a game of sorry,
So grow up,
As I picked the last card,
Ending his chance,
Three spaces,
One card,
I won,
Always,
But it was never the same,
Playing games with other suitors,
Talking about love and pointless penned convos,
Like that,
Period Blank,
Modesty was a drug,
Hyperventilating my self esteem with a gust of I love you's,
Wind,
When,
Pleasure always fed off manipulation,
Their pulling me into bed,
Instead of lounging around with his smile,
Just him,
One moment,
Just a talk,
Vanished,
Like the snow in spring's day,
But still sensing the snow in the echoed wind for today,
See I was the game who nobody wanted to play with,
Stuck in the attic,
Back packed in a space that was only fit to hold,
My mold,
Perfectly,
He called me perfect,
Such a funny thing,
My mouth hasn't been used to the formed tongue
that spewed out of it,
When your basement is living with spiders,
And you find yourself lying alone in a corner,
In bed,
Content,
Anywhere where it's comfortable to hear my used moans and muzzled screams against bed springs,
I grab love,
Twist it open,
Scatter the pieces along the table,
Because lying to myself,
Its not so bad,
One guy to the next,
To feel the void,
My heart strings,
Circling D for Disintegrate to this love test,
Because in relationships there's only two,
Not one,
Or three,
Because in relationships we do not realize the beauty and character of fragile things,
Till it's broken,
The name is Lola,
Easy to play with,
Hard to forget,
This game of commitment must end,
Because everything I touch turns into,
An olden shoe,
Which I abandon after a worn out month,
Throwing you into the piled long list of moldy regrets,
In my bathroom,
So they could really feel like shit,
So be warned without a proposal,
I'm really not good with those kinds of things.
