you throw out 'i love you's' like you throw out my letters
and it's coincidental that they both end up being recycled.
i wouldn't call it being angry, rather an apology for two
and i'm sorry i've wasted all of your time
your nonchalant attitude cuts like the diamonds
that i've drowned you in, now you're spitting up sparkles
and i'm drenched in the specks that flicker in your eyes
the pigments that are indescribable, completely remarkable.
we could say you've done nothing,
and from another perspective i guess you have not
but i'm overly sensitive to everything
like the words you weave to the things you've thought
i'm tired of talking down to you and myself
because i know i'm doing neither of us any favors.
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