I hate you. I hate how you make me think of the Milky Way. How I burn when you fucking look at me. How you fucking push me to make out with someone else. How I think over and over that you know, that you don't, that you need to push me away, that you itch, that you hate me too, that you yearn to tear me. I hate that I want you. I hate that you don't. I hate that you give twice as much two shits that I can't have you. And that still do you need me to see you as the cluster of stars that won't brighten your morning. I hate that I say no, then yes, then no.

Would you have me? You know, like a sip of coffee at nine in the morning. Like, you know, like something you never had.

No one else is nothing. Someone else is something, but never you.

I was like, you do know, like you were going to take me and like say, Lie with me, sleep with me, make me breakfast, ignore me, leave, send me a song, wish me a good day, say my name, say my name one, two, three, five, thirteen, forty seven times my name, call me sweetheart without my permission, suffer, and start all over the morning after. Cause I can comply non-stop. Cause you know it and you know it and you'll smile and you'll smile.

And... And I don't know what else to type.