Don’t Read Into It

If you can't hang,

there's the door.

If you can't,

there's the door.

I think we can all presume that the toxicity of the relationships we all abhor,

aren't the things that look like a true chore.

It's when the rawest form of emotions can have a light touch when we're irritated, but the meaning behind them is false.

Faux in that we aren't going to delve into the deeper meaning behind them,

they're just feelings and they're fleeting.

My love for you is heated passion,

so pretty and warm when our mouths meet.

Kisses, pressed lips on a scarred face.

I love you all the more,

in my mind, I expect you'll always want to know.

When I am leaving him for you?

When am I leaving a guy who seems toxic to you.

He's my passion, we fight for play.

If you can't hang,

there's the door.

The words we share between us aren't a chore.

They're just an empty rage, for minor irritations,

I'm a loud kind of girl.