No More by Kori Written 2/7/17

We flail around like we are on fire,

when we are actually trying to dance.

You’re not suppose to inhale cigar smoke,

and I learn this the hard way.

You remind me that it’s all for the taste,

but I am a rebel.

You try to kiss me,

but I push you away.

I stare in confusion,

but you mumble and tremble.

What is wrong with just being there for someone?

When did the word friend mean a shattered ego?

Me not wanting you in a romantic way,

is not me shutting the door of my life.

I mean, I am kind of gay…

and no, I don’t mean happy.

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