I was halfway to silence when you opened your mouth
With words of negativity and lack of sympathy in mind
I was halfway to silence when I wondered if you had 
Ever tried on the shoes of another woman or man
I was halfway to silence when I looked at your face
And only saw that of the devil, smitten with shame
I was halfway to silence with my visions of you
Being taped from the mouth all the way down to your shoe
I was halfway to silence when I could not bear it any longer,
How I wondered how the world bore people like you inside
I was halfway to silence and therefore two inches from 
Kicking you in your guts and leaving you there to look dumb
I was halfway to silence when I realized that you are you
And my mouth and thoughts have other things to do 

1. I wish for blood rushing, skin touching, guilty endeavors. 
2. I wish for an apology. 
3. I wish for an approval from reflections.
4. I wish for stability. 
5. I wish for, oh forget it.

Carelessness, I miss it. You use me, I use you. You, aggressive. I, ruthless. I will reciprocate. Treat me like an object, I already view you as one. Call me your substance, overdose. You have no control. That is me. You toss it back. I will give it back worse than you had planned for it. Latch and lust, is it my fault? Treat me like it's my fault. Tell me it's my fault that I don't know what making love means. Because I don't. You only showed me the other. 

That was one. 

I am not lonely. I enjoy the comfort of my bed. My legs sprawl and my hands are pampered by my pillows. I find meaning in life from driving alone. The music is my friend, latching onto my inner emotions and propelling forward a voice far deserving of a grammy, but nevertheless enjoying its weakness. Imperfection. Imperfect. I prefer silence to screams of inability to carry on an argument. I prefer reading books of beauty to watching absurd movies. The fairytale is so much better in words. The love is so much more beautiful in words. Love is so much better written down. Love doesn't make a good actor. 

But I do get lonely. Especially when you make a mockery of my opinion. Or when you pretend to be present, and that you are, just without your ears. I do get lonely when you yell at him who I look after, when you make a disaster out of a vow that you took, when you forget that I get stressed. I do get lonely when you ask me to shed off pounds as you consume a bag of chips. I do get lonely. But I am not lonely. I am partial to other emotions. That. I suppose is the supreme difference between you and me.