it’s not about filling up space when it comes you

we both know in an instant, we could replace the other

one bat of an eyelash & i would have another view

but he wouldn’t be you, and he would try

and i would wish for him to smile at my silliness the way you do, i would wish for him to worry about me eating “real food” the way you do, i would wish for him to handle the deep storms of emotions that come full fledged pouring out of me… the way you do. i would wish for him to touch my body the way you do. i would ache for him to make me cum as freely as you do.

and every time his lips would press against mine, i would only yearn more for yours.

intoxicating love, look, what you do to me.

liquor seems to be the issue, but getting drunk off you is everything.

unlike any other man, you’re the cure for me.

no, unlike many times before, don’t want to fill up space for guys who write their height in their bio, speeding around in flashy cars, or waiting to bathe me in all things materialistic.

i don’t want to fill up space for someone that isn’t “the one.”

i don’t want to run to the next man who shows me attention, it’s not about that anymore, what a novel direction.

is it immature or irresponsible to admit? i never let my heart break enough to stop those guys from thinkin they could hit.

because they could, and they would. and every time, i would leave the room feeling more empty and alone. used. and sometimes violated.

instead i stay and i pray and i manifest, because that’s what you believe…

and fuck, you make it look so good, you seem so much happier in that mind state, it looks so free

it’s worth a gamble, i know

hope some night soon you’ll end up at my door

because i can’t have you, im out the game for sure