I've never been stabbed...
but im guessing it feels similar to
the way i feel when i look at you.
watching you from across the table is killing me...
not knowing how you feel is killing me.
I moisten my lips and lift my eyes up to yours,
hollowed out darkness...
i could gaze into their abyss forever,
but i choose to turn away.
I know youre not a good boy,
but it makes me long for you even more
i wish you would stop talking about music and work and just take me in your arms
like i pray you want to...
I want to feel my fingers in your rich, dark hair
i want to feel your lips,
and the weight of your body
upon mine
i need you to want me too...
when you come to my work
just to talk for an hour,
it brings me a false hope...
a hope that you might share my desire.
