False Awakenings: Something

Fuck me like I'm yours

touch like I'm him

though I know I'm not

so I know I'm not.

we are second string,

red bottles with blue lids

pouring all we've got

into each other.

But the crafts created

from broken pieces

are most beautiful, sometimes.

You are beautiful, to me

sometimes

when I need you to be.

When you need to be.

And that's all that matters to us.

Us.

Whatever it means

Whatever this

makeshift fort

of misguided emotions is designed to do.

It is something.

It is soemthing

to call our own.