You make me write awful poetry.
You make me say the things I swore I never would.
You’re drawing out all the broken clichés and heart dotted I’s.
And I don’t want it.
I don’t want the world stopping on a dime.
I do not want this breath taken this world shaken.
I don’t want these sugar sweet syrup dreams.
I feel lke a little girl fighting the urge to say boys are cute
When her wholelife the have only been yucky.
I am sick o these Frank Sinatra moments.
I’m sick of this pitter patter heart.