Saturday, March 19, 2011

Tentative. Tentatively dancing.
Not around the fact that we really don't want tomorrow to come
or that you had sex and didn't really like it
I'm not sure about that
or that you want to die if your cancer comes back
or that you cried when your hair fell out
or that you're sterile
or that the awkward girl is too shy to kiss you last week
or that you think I'm pretty
And that I shouldn't be so self-consious
or that the girl in my sculpture class wants to kill herself because of you
Not really
or that you loved that song
or that I think no one's good enough
or that you want to watch the sunrise with me...

I'm not sure what I'm waiting for, actually.


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