Broken up

You seem like u wanted to talk to me...but at the same time you didn't. Maybe it was the distance I put on my face. Maybe it was the fact that I feel sexy, and look the part. Maybe your scared of me. I fucking hope you are boy.

I have a huge urge to go sit in front of you. To be an even bigger bitch. You told me not to talk to you anymore and I'll stick to it . It wasn't my fault. I guess I'm not over this. And it's not so much the fact that I liked you. I am over that, I'm just not over how you ended our friendship.

And how we talked that night. You told me about what it's like to be dieing. What it's like to have most of your life over. I can't get over how sweet and tired your voice was. I bet you were on a lot of medication. But you powered through that to talk to me. Whatever.

I hope you stare. I hope you notice how short my skirt is, and that my pink bra is poking out a little. I hope you notice me. I hope you are hurt that we can't be friends anymore. I hope that you can hear how cool my music is, how the beat pumps up and down, in and out, back and forth. Fuck you.