Voices keep saying that night in New York you wanted two things:
You wanted me to cum
You wanted to die
Hearing that you want to die hurts.
But why does it hurt so much?
It shouldn’t hurt me, should it?
But maybe I think life with me is this grand alternative because things will get better.
Is my ego sore?
Does my heart ache?
I get a lump in my throat thinking I’d lose you forever even though I don’t have you right now.
Like I’m banking on there being a chance you see things my way.
It doesn’t make any sense.
I don’t know why I’m feeling these things.
But I am.