I don’t want you back,
but I want you around,
waiting to want you,
in an uncontrollable way.
I tell you,
you’re the man,
scratching secrets into my desk,
saying yes,
time and time again,
to being your girl.

I am a guilty girl,
chasing you,
though you’re not worth my attention,
just doing it,
or you,
for the sake of it,
because we’re just no good,
you and me.
I just want validation,
and you just need a distraction,
sharing M&S meals for one,
while the sun sets on our senses.

You don’t know what to do with me,
I’m a pretty problem you serve,
rather than solving,
bringing back urges you thought you’d purged,
absolving your sins,
by giving them to me,
until I am just as unclean,
and then I leave,
listening to your voicemails on repeat.
Listening to your voicemails on repeat.
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