YOU ASKED WHAT I WROTE
ABOUT BUT I COULDNT ANSWER BECAUSE IT WAS YOU IT WAS ALWAYS YOU ALL
I EVER WROTE ABOUT WERE YOUR STUPID SOFT LIPS AND YOUR EYES THE
COLOR OF SUMMER IT WAS YOU IT WAS ALWAYS FUKCING
YOU
BUT NO ONE MENTIONED THE
CRAVING FOR YOUR HANDS ON MY WAIST OR YOUR LIPS ON MY SKIN THEY
TOLD ME ABOUT THE FLOWERS THAT WOULD GROW IN SIDE ME BUT THEY DIDNT
TELL ME ABOUT THE ONES THAT WOULD DIE