I’ll bet the you are. I’m good looking, S***, a good kisser, relatively stable, hilarious. I’m a catch. With a nice p**** too.
But you don’t care if I’m well. In fact you prefer if I’m not well. Because you can’t have me. Mostly because of yourself. Me too, I wouldn’t get back with you You, you can’t get back with me even if you wanted to, badly. You made another choice and you REALLY commited. For whatever reason. And that’s alright, but the thing is, it isn’t me.
You’re just giving me a poke. Checking the pulse. Yanking my chain.
