hurts

it hurts

but you also have me

vomiting poetry.

i don’t sleep

but that means i

get to

count the stars.

i will never be good

enough

because i am

competing with

little silver spoons

and your bottles

and that makes me

wanna be better

be more.

you make my knees

hurt

because i always

get down for you

and then on top

because it is never

about me.

you think you know me

but you only know

the smiles i paint

and the pleasure

i give you.

i don’t think

your vision

is that good

cuz if it was

you’d know

you make it hurt

so good.