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Poetry. . . . sort of | ||||
I loved the way you touched me, As no one had before. I craved your kisses. But not because they were from you. I realize that now, when before I was too consumed by your touch to notice the difference. I said I’d call but didn’t. You said you liked me, And I said I liked you too. But really what I liked Was the attention you gave me. I meant no harm. I hope you see That I’m just scared. Scared of hurting you. I said I’d call And so I should. But I can’t call now. Not after what’s happened. How can I face you? You who are so sweet and expectant. You’ve scared me to the bone. Yet you did nothing wrong. Its all my fault, don’t you see? I’m just fucked up And I don’t know why. You’ve consumed my thoughts Since I met you. I’d like to tell you that’s a good thing, But I can’t. I’m just chicken shit. |