You play.
You banter.
You flirt.
But the second
he returns your affections,
you run.
He thinks he screwed up.
He thought you liked him,
and you did.
You still do,
but you run away anyway
just like the coward you are.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a Neurotic Insomniac
PoetryLet's see how this goes. It's time for this sleep-deprived, emotionally-unstable creature to write some shit down.
