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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