I got this bad habit
where I don’t think before I speak.
I fall in love like every week.
I keep a pistol when I sleep
inside my mouth
so I don’t fight my tongue
for saying all these things,
like how I saw you in my dreams.
(I really did)
I’m getting bad at it.
So I just numb myself instead.
I’ll cut my hair and dye it red,
and hope you get it through your head
that I’m in love
and it’s bleeding through my skull,
but I’ve been hurt before
so I can’t tell you
that I
keep this image
in my mind
of you sleeping
late at night.
I count the lashes
on your eyes,
keep my legs
between your thighs.
I could never tell you,
even though I’d like to.
I swear this never happens.
You know I’ve got a way with words.
I’d put a million in a verse,
but still can’t bring myself
to face what I feel.
I’m scared of something real.
I should spit it out
and maybe get the guts to tell you.