You tell me all the things I need to hear,
like how much like you my face,
the words that come out of my mouth,
how you like my hips and stomach,
the two things I used to hate about myself.
I wish I could warn you
not to get yourself in trouble, dear,
by saying the right things to me
when we both know that this is going to turn out wrong.
But I don’t want you to go,
because I’m so helplessly in lust with you,
so I’ll use my lips for others things instead.