I could smell your scent from 100 miles away and I tried to ignore it. I always forget to remember to not get attached to things
especially the okay looking ones
because they’re never what I think they are and I always get so sad when they’re gone.
but the problem with me is
that I get attached to everything
every book every pen every candle every word every cup of coffee
that I end up spilling a little bit of every fucking morning
every pair of pretty eyes every car I drive behind on the highway every friend that says they’ll never let me down every pair of socks
and I always end up fucking losing one
and most of all mediocre boys who call me pretty
because they almost always only want one thing
but what they don’t know is I’m a lot more than one thing. I’m a million little things. a million little attachments. a million little molecules. none of which I wanted to give to you.
above all i’m attached to myself. I’m okay on my own. it’s okay to be attached to yourself. but even after it all i’d still much rather be attached to you.