And I thought it was me, over and over again
me, me and me
I thought I had made it an awkward mess
that the silences and lack of substance was
the sum of my age and lack of experience.
And I thought it was my body, inflaming and inflamed again
me, me and my body
I thought it was my cherub-like roundness
that your 'maybes' and distance were
the product of all my quirks and openness to care
And I thought it was my personality, wild and unashamed again
that I became too enthralled and overthought your interest
You would see me
I thought it would only be a matter of time
before you saw me
And thought it so obnoxiously gleaming, so innocently ugly
You'd throw pity in the place of interest
And run toward the prettier pastures, the exit's refuge--whispering "that was a close one"
Leaving me in the shadows of my self-doubt, and dampened spirit
But it wasn't me, and how could it be?
When this time I came first with the lust and neglected the like
Ripened forbidden fruit swaying decidedly in your direction
Only to let the fruit rot, escalating quickly with no promise of climax to come
A flame snuffed out before it even flickered
But I'm not disposable,
you were nothing but a MATCH.