dont you fucking look at me like I'm not speaking your language
when I am using words to describe you that you don't like
we stand in my kitchen, shoulders squared off
but you won't meet my eyes
and I could claw your face off but I bit my nails down
so I'm reduced to words, motherfucking misogynistic liar
standing in my kitchen like your body has a right to the space
like somehow this whole city is yours, from the lake
to the Motel 6 in Brecksville where you took her
I know you fucked her
I know you fucked her
I like that you had to drive that far south to feel safe
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment