"I Was Just Thinking..."

You're fading faster than that hickie on your neck. She never knew it'd be this way. Reading letters and notes, a beautiful instrument- the power of words. It makes her sick. Sick to the bone. She sits there with her stomach clenched, head throbbing, uncontrollable shaking, bodily sensitivity. When she thinks of you, every day, you make her want to go back to how everything began. But you're "addicted to this life, it's gon' be hard to quit". Ya'll had a long run. Now all the emotions built up and are leaking out the cracks of her brain like slimetime nickelodeon. Escape. Sometimes she wants to hate...you. She wakes up and walks the streets every morning, wanting to approach anyone, anything, "Let me at'm!" She wants to just grab'm. Shake the reality out of her memory and go back to the dream ya'll used to be. But nah,

this is me.