Sometimes I dream of touch and colour and that life's still full of magic but it's not really, there's just soda pop bubbles, just these stupid teeth, just me trying to win, trying to get a girl like you to like a boy like me, you're too pretty and I have never been that good at slaying dragons.
What can I even tell you? You make me so nervous and sick in my stomach, I want you so bad that it's just like the wind getting knocked out of my chest - all the time.
Besides, my hands shake too much, my mouth gets too dry. I'm not good at these things you see?
I am not the hero nor the monster, I am just the person who writes down the stories od the heroes and the monsters and it's bittersweet, I want mine, I'm too greedy, blah, blah, blah.
God damn you. I want you more than air. I'm too old for this. I couldn't stop feeling this way if I tried.
I want to hold the hand inside you, I want to take a breath that's true