Move in or break up.
I hate all or nothing requests.
What I want and what is possible are two different things.
So I guess, we break up.
For real this time.
we can get high off each other.
But, can’t remain good friends.
So we’ll make each other want to die,
to give each other strength to walk away & stay out of the way.
Maybe years down the line,
my name will come up in conversation
& you will have nice things to say.
And I’ll see walking down the street, I’ll smile & wave.
Until then I’ll hate you,
For holding my hips in your hands
and then pushing them away.
(Saying goodbye & growing up are two things we’ll never learn to forgive.
Not being able to let go & fall out of love are two things I’ll always regret.
Realism defeating romanticism will always break my heart.)