Habitual

I think it’s fucked up how you stole all corners of my mind;
the places I used to hide.
It’s a back and forth motion,
like the morning we became wind.
It was nothing special.
Nothing at all.
Casual.

I don’t know about most people,
But I find it difficult to flee from this cassette.
it’s nothing more than a noise.
A ticking so unbearably loud,
I’d actually rather listen to the radio sing songs about ripped jeans and giving head.

I was asked the other afternoon if I regretted you.
No one has ever asked me this before, and I honestly started to cry.
I do. But only in the way you regret eating too much or not taking a shower for 4 days in a row.
You see, expectations. They are a human most selfish downfall.
They are my downfall. For a girl, who was too scared to commit.
I expected that we were on the same terms. That the kiss I gave you before you crossed through the frame of the door would speak for itself; would speak for me.
 Jesus Christ after all these years you should have known the hardest thing for me to do is tell people how I f*****g feel.

I keep compromising with what did and didn’t.
What was and wasn’t. What should’ve and could’ve.
I can’t get this idea of what never was out of my head.
I tend to masticate what I’m told to let go.
But it’s usually more than I can utilize.
I’m plagued with the memory of the feeling you harassed me with; this feeling of importance.

But what I don’t understand is why everyone pretends they’ve never been in this shithole before.
I shouldn’t have to explain.
But here it is.
Are you all content?