last night was the messiest it's ever been.
My moon wasn't awake and my stars were asleep.

so I looked next to me and I didn't see the phone light up like usual;
I saw a human being.

I speak of last night being a mess because we cried and argued, and then I let you in my bed.

is this love or is this lust, blood caked in old rust? I don't know.

What I do know is that every near touch of yours won't compare to whoever else is out there, because we cannot continue like this, if this is what is left of us: lust.