Make love to me as if it’s the first time you fucked me after we met.
I know things about you that you aren’t capable of knowing.
Some, many times I crawled back to us,
You pretended that emotion no longer bind us, and we’re not allowed to have sex.
Every time I see you I force myself not look at the watch,
Because time stops and besides we’re not right for each,
This is practice for new people we might meet down the road.
I can count things, that hold you back, up to a hundred,
Faster than my pretend-luxury car goes zero to sixty.
I won’t ever be able to tell you the words that will save your life,
If I whisper them into your ear, you won’t hear me.
I no longer fear rejection and lie to myself about things that give me anxiety,
So that fake me will made into the man I always I wanted to be.
It’s make-belief, but it soothes my chapped lips and bruised ego.