Sometimes I’m a recluse. But you love me that way.
In my bedroom. In my underwear. For days and days and days.
Doting. Your favorite kind of audience.
And you. Giving me endless counsel in limited language.
I want you there for morning coffee and long walks home.
I want to sing you in the shower and dance you on the kitchen counter.
I want you to remind me that when I’m worthless, it’s okay cause so are you.
I wake up with my shoes on.
Red lipstick smeared on my sheets and your words in my head.
They’re all I remember from last night.
They’re all I ever remember with any sense of certainty.
You think you’ve gone mad? Well so have I.
You’re addicted to cocaine. To the rhythm. To yourself.
But I’m addicted to your dirty mind and the way it moves mine.
Your anarchical screams inspire an internal revolution.
Brokenness can be beautiful. So show it the fuck off.
Your nihilism seduces my optimism.
Shouting “Hey kids, we’re all just the same”
But I know you can’t mean us.
We’re different, right?
Quietly trying to give them something to believe in.
Shh, it’ll ruin the image.
Let’s keep that our little secret.
You’ve got this sweet softness when you talk about your grandma.
A boyish vulnerability with each mention of your mother.
An undying hope beneath feigned indifference.
An eloquent gentility with black nail polish.
I saw you once.
I was in a sea of people.
You stood in a pink haze singing our songs to a bunch of of strangers.
You didn’t see me.
But I was the one in the black dress swearing that no one gets me like you do.
Oh. You’re going to need something more distinguishable?
Well, shit. That’s all I’ve got.
An ode to I Like It When You Sleep For You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware Of It by The1975
