breaking hearts has never looked so cool [ 19.11.03 - 1:14 Forsan et haec olin meminisse invalint. ] They are so goddamn beneath you, & not in the way you generally prefer. they are audacious nobodys with nice tits, regurgitating not-so-obscure quotes from the not-so-obscure writer of the week. To them, passion & the life of excess and indulgence is, like, totally the new pink. You call me begrudging & solicitous? Hell yes, I am, because it ought to be me. I may be as predictable and pretentious, but at least I'm honest. They don't want you. They want to save you, the same way they've clamored at my door to save me. They want to redeem your 'tortured soul' and let you love again. They want to be issue number four, girlfriend number infinity, subject of your pretty words (& consequently, your pretty cock). They want to break you, domesticate you- If I were one for cheesy metaphors, this is where I would compare you to a stallion or some other predictable cliche. They are little impetuous sirens hellbent on being the exception to your rule. I thirst for you. Regularly I swallow my pride, my amour propre to languish in you. There's this carnal concupiscence caught in the pit of my stomach, even when you torment me with your nether-whores. Maybe it's your lost poet scene or your devil-may-care flair for the one-night stand, but this light is kind to you. Your physique, your skin, those eyes, those hands - exquisite torture of the most covetous type. Your deltoid, pectoral, & gluteal muscles, and all the others I failed to memorize in biology class cause the most insatiable want in me. I find myself endlessly antagonized by your excruciating indecision! Unabashed, I assure you that I am yours. Take me & relieve me of this desperate fervor you've caused. You are my Harlequin cliche. And I bet you love this, don't you? [ previous entry - next entry ]

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