I hate it when you put stones in my shoes,
so disrespectful, cunt.
Why do you always have to call drunk from his house?
Why does it have to be collect?!
You would say that I am nothing but your best friend.
As you sip your days from your sad bowl.
I would lick your wounds and try to make you sing for him once,
You would say that you've got no more voice.
I don’t mind you shaving your legs next to me,
as long as I can fuck you.
Many drafts it took me to complete this letter.
Tossing bad words on my lonesome one room floor.
Nothing now can save me once confess this knowing:
That I am yours.