Type

"You had this sadness and the pain, it made you attractive" 

This wouldn't work in the absence of everything I loath, that kills me slowly, or instantly. The attributes that knock the wind out of me, kick the back of my knees, well they do just that. And if you were better, I would feel worse, if you openly liked me more, god knows I do get bored. So you'll play your games to keep me busy, decoding, and interpreting and translating a language I will never learn. 

"These skates
They were made for thin ice"

Let me suffer over this, agonized, or it is an utter waste of my time. Nothing will ever equate, with me treating you great, and I am fascinated with it being that way. The butterflies in my throat sound elegant, before I allow them to evacuate, let me barf all over something pretty, pretty straight forward.


"And I will call
until you call back to me"