maybe i was bound to meet someone like him.
his bedroom was a live show,
there were only windows and at night,
i could only see myself and it was repulsive.
it was a very cold shower month we lived through.
i guess he'd still be bitter.
i'd be bitter.
his eyes pierced through me like he was watching, i was ever too aware
worried his eyes may see too much of me.
enough to worry me.
but i let it slip.
it was nice to pretend i was a mystery at some point.
i hope he writes me in bathroom stalls
like i write him.