I let you open the door for me. You think you have me more than you do. I play it violently sweet; I play nothing at all.
But you think things.
I got a hangover from your cheap whine. But okay baby, tell me how it is. Tell me all about the day you spent building a castle in the clouds. All about the games you do not play. All about the she’s that came before me. All about the he’s you can’t wait to be. All about the worlds that divide your brain in two so you can sleep at night.
You memorized a pattern of freckles on my arm and you know what it means when I bite my lip. But you will not know me. You saw my body in that dress and you know what I like to do on a Saturday. But you do not have me. You order me a drink I like and you can tell a stranger my story. But you can not love me.
Because I am not yours. I never was. Capital m-Mine; capital f-Fine.
My Life is Greige 