go buy yourself some advil

i couldn't write about him
because he was only a crush
and i couldn't write about him
because i'm not in love
and you are the only thing i know how to write about

you are a good-for-nothing
bring-me-to-my-knees boy
you are a good-for-nothing
give-me-a-disease boy

and even though you are the only one i know how to write about
i can't edit and photoshop the pitiful shake in your hand
as you knock back another one
advil's proven more effective than a handful of glitter and a squint of the eyes
but i've said too much already
i say i'm sorry
and these apologies are nauseating
i'm so goddamn sorry i care about your health
you no-good son of a bitch

and whereas i think to myself
that the way i am slowly killing myself is acceptable
no one ever blames the girl for keeping her monsters
the fact you're playing poker with your minutes scares the living shit out of me
don't call me when you find the first gray in your hair
i don't know what i will do if i call you
and your voicemail doesn't answer for you anymore
but whispers the words of a dead man

i hate you keeping your cigarettes from me
when i'm wrapped in your smoke and your sin
did you ever quit sophomore year?

i hate the broken bottles under your boots
you waking up next to her in the morning
and the smell of weed in your hair

you're not a privileged son of a celebrity
you can't get away with this shit forever
you once confessed you were working full-time
told me you replaced your mission plans
told me you can't leave her for two years
told me you have to look out for her
where the hell is your job now?
half-remembered nights are an honest change of plan

you tell me you're not drinking as much
and i know weed doesn't kill you
so get off my fucking back
but your tongue in their mouths
sloppy kisses
clumsy hands pulling at their clothing
kills
me
even though i tell you i don't mind
because my opinions aren't worth the unanswered calls
i expect too much of you
i'm supposed to accept you as you are

and you tell me to go on some dates
to kiss some more boys
as if that will make me less resentful
but sometimes all i want is you
i like a specific flavor of ice cream
and i'm tired of experimenting with strawberry and cookies'n'cream

all you are good for is handing me these broken pens
growing out of your chest
and i cover my body with words

but no one bothers to read them