by Amanda DeLalla
You, kissed the painted lips of
Me, till I never wanted to let go again.
You, wrapped your arms so kindly around
Me, and I knew I’d found a true friend.
You, the pain in your eyes, and
Me, hurting too, couldn’t disguise it from
You, and a girl who cries, that’s
Me, even on my birthday, when
You, give a splendid surprise, yet say to
Me, that we’re on borrowed time.
You, probably all out of rhymes, still wanna go with
Me, ’cause you like how I let my love show.
You, trying to force yourself to love