I am not your babe anymore I say sharply, still sharp, even though I had to say it more than once. More than many times. In many conversations. And then he'd write me a letter which said in the end 'and even if you say you're not my babe anymore, for me you'll always be babe and one day I'll get you back somehow'.
Oh, how I longed for that. To know that words would be vessels filled with movement. Action! With deeds, with walks, not beaten up, smack, to the ground, trampled on to be pointed at later in a lame ass excuse 'but it shattered! all into thousands of pieces'...
What to do, huh. What to do.
But oh yes, what to do, when these vessels really wouldn't have done anyone good, huh? Well, consider that too then.
Yes, but, look, don't you know how much I'd give to just have taken advantage of those moments, those words, and jump back on the track I cut, just to taste the forbidden fruits of futile love one more time...
It's moments like this that make me listen to songs such as 'it's cool, ca can still be friends' by bright eyes, but just because I can't stand the majority of my playlist anymore. All burdened down with you, pirate prince.
Didn't know how to fight a fucking battle straight. Oh well.
What to do, huh. What to do. When someone walks with crutches. Can't really get mad at not fighting straight then, can you.
Fucking fuck fcuk/;/,.
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