I don't know what's wrong with me. I find myself thinking about you every morning, every night, everything afternoon; at all times. Envisioning how your lips curl when you smile, the way your eyes sparkle at night, how soft your hands are, feeling up your arms, thinking 'damn your fine.' It's like you've put a hex on me, with only one cure, one solution, one remedy. And the remedy is you. You are the only one who can have me. Not a piece of me, but all of me. But you don't want it. You don't want to claim your prize. You rather forfeit than be mine.
The crazy thing is that I never been this girl. I never been the one to let herself go this route. I like to taste all of the fruits of this world, see all of its colors, hear all of its sounds. And for me to finally land at one place, one fruit, one color, one sound, and most importantly, one face. Well, I thought I would never see the day.
You are not perfect. And I accepted that. For the first time, I accepted you not aesthetically, but as a real man. Flaws and all, I let you in to my space, my dome, my home, my place. Now, that I have opened that door for you, how do you expect me to allow it to close and start off new? I just don't know where to go. Because my belongings are still at that space, that place, that dome, that home.
Funny, how the tables have turned. Primarily, I was in control, not in the the passenger's seat. Now you're driving this vehicle, you're in control, you're the predator and I'm your prey, easily devoured every time a thought of you plays. Replays through my head over and over like a broken record dying to be remade.
I ask myself, is this love? No. I can't be, we haven't even gotten to that point. It's more of a comfortability* that's made me so damn.....lazy!
But with each crack you've created on the shell I hid under, you've reached me deeper than anyone else, but also hurt me deeper than anyone else. And with that said, this has to be farewell.
You asked why I would never "hit you up" at first, well this is exactly why. You played my feelings and soul as if it were a toy. But you're not a child anymore. how could you toy me around and not have any kind of remorse?
I'm not blind anymore, you're far from the man I need to be with. So forget about me texting you and calling you, instead, why don't you "hit me up" because I'm going back to the old chick...
I'm going back to me. Back to my dome, my home, my place, and most importantly, my face.
