As the impurities of our insecurities weigh us down, we prematurely sometimes obscurely wonder who would betray us now. But I look at you, not how you look at me, and wonder who mistook your beauty as an invitation to cruelty.
As this fixation gets to me,
I would not expect you to understand
The entirety of our anxiety goes unspoken but understood. With analysis comes paralysis as I wonder why you would. Because I look at you then look at me and cant figure out why you should.
Every thought is sliced in half. Every word becomes a paragraph. Every sigh seems to multiply until all I can do is laugh. Its how I look at you, not how you look at me, that turns my world to glass. And I dare you to shatter me before my flattery turns us into ash.
What we call abstinence is merely a tapestry of events culminating to an exquisite, sublime plan.
Overkill and over-analysis seems to be in high demand
I would not expect you to understand.
The sum of all our parts glued together by two hearts. As they beat as one, the adrenaline and the rush become the medicine for us. And its exhilarating and contagious. I look at me, not how I look at you, with disgust.
From anticipation to that first thrust
Its the celebration of us
I would not expect you to understand.
The entirety of our anxiety goes unspoken but understood. With analysis comes paralysis as I wonder why you would. Because I look at you then look at me and cant figure out why you should.
I do not expect you to understand.
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