When a cold old man with too much pride refuses pity she throws a blanket on him and tells him he's making her sick with his incessant shivering.
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He foolishly throws it off himself.
She exits the room but sneaks a glance back in, lovingly, and he succumbs to burying himself underneath it.
I think the ability to love well,
takes a bold and muscular scrutiny;
attentiveness on steroids you could say
Maybe hers is derived from the exhausted effort of trying to make a dead man love himself.
She's tired now, I know. Those coronaries are a little run down. I can feel them when she puts my hand on her chest and expels the venom from herself, moving like a snake and pressing my fingers into her.
I think we found each other just in time.
I think we found each other
When the lone ice cube in the glass outweighed the drink,
When the black shadows in my cataracts began to worsen,
And the feeling in your chest began to tighten,
The fear of needing someone,
I've never known how to stop it.
Im not motivated to try.
Cause if you were a cancer I'd transform you into a white blood cell and force you to fight your own toxicity.
If you were a rotting tooth Id do that tough guy thing with my tongue and force out the decay by making you laugh.
And If you were to kill me Id still struggle to let you live alone.
I guess that's loyalty.
But I don't think you're a cancer.
I think you're a misunderstood blood type with cells carrying mass quantities of latent truths that sometimes expose all the weak veins in its host.
I think you could strip a phlebotomist of her confidence and a vampire of his iron,
All for the sake of honesty.
I like that about you.
The purity of a perception keen and real,
And I'd puke myself blind
just to be next to the echo of your opinions.