June 8, 2008
I wish you would answer.
I know you’re home,
Probably sipping cappuccinos
In your pajamas
(But it’s 4 P.M.)
And laughing at my foolishness.

I know you’re not trustworthy
With your heartbreaker reputation
Hitchhiking on your back
(Is it a heavy burden or is it a comfortable weight?)
And your waterfall of lies
Cascading down my raw back.

But dammit, I need you
And the comfort I get from this façade
(The pain’s great, too, when I feel masochistic).
You tore down my walls
With a black paperclip
You made into a key.

I swore I’d go to hell
Before I’d be the girl
Waiting by the phone.
(Answer it. Please?)
But I guess I’m going to hell
If this isn’t it.

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