Oh baby, you’re not my type
I prefer my women with a little more…..
And my men with just a little more….
and whatever it is, it has to be intense.
I want a moment and a memory
that stings me when I’m old.
and when I lose my mind
and I’m speaking in rhyme
I want to pluck it from the tale of time
and shiver as it passes over me one more time.
I want the imprint of a kiss
and I need this aggression
to make an impression
and stain me and cut me,
and when I’ve gone crazy and I’m burping up stars
I want to trace and regress to when I received all these scars.
and I’ll never be alone with all the ghosts that I’ve made.
and I’m sorry to see you’ve not got a fire in you.
Nothing but a dying ember glowing in your eyes.
Not a flicker of pain nor a moment of shame filling your heart.
And I cannot stress this enough,
you’re a good man,
and you’ll never break my heart.
And I cannot go another day
without the touch of the bad ones
who want to tear me apart.