During the seven minutes of sunrise in Miami's dusty morning,
I let you hold me.
It was six in the morning, and for all I was wearing under my satin dress,
I may have been naked, and you knew it.

You were drunk, and possibly high, I treated you like garbage, but,
I (secretly) loved you.

It is not unknown that I like being cruel. The words I've whispered so casually to you,
I know,
I know,
They rend your soul apart.
I've got teeth wrapped around your spine,
I've got every mystery you try to keep around you,
Figured out,,br> And you adore it like you adore my coffee-and-cream lipgloss and my,
Jet-black hair.

I like to think that I am a complicated creature. First I insult your
Drug habit
Your menthol addiction
The girl you were in love with who got fat
and ugly
and can't remember your favorite superhero
the way that I can,
And then,
Slyly,
I win back your heart with
Long legs
Nonchalance
And a distant look
At the cars racing down Sunset.

And don't get me wrong,
I (secretly) love you,
But only in the moments
When my true lover has disappointed me.
When the sex gets
Redundant
And boring, sometimes
I think of your purple lips and bees-wax hair and feel better.

I know you'd worship me like a queen if I hit the right chords,
I know you'd think of me all the time and we'd get stoned together and make love on some piece of public property,
And laugh about the claw marks on your back later,
And it would be all right.
My only excuse
For doing none of this
Is that I know from experience,
You're unreliable.
YOU ARE CHILDISH, AND BARELY WHOLE,
YOU'VE MADE A MESS OF YOURSELF.
Your friends have pictures of you passed out on the floor,
And you live,
In a million different places,
And you put on a show,
But,
I know you,
I know you,
I know you,
Gipsy boy.

My boyfriend now,
He drives a BMW he paid for himself at eighteen.
He works in a law office and wears dress-shirts half the time and
I (secretly) hate it.
I love him for being stable, though, which is something you are not.
He picks me up on the weekends and sometimes we smoke weed with his friends
and fall asleep playing Morrowind and for all he pretends to be grown up,
He still acts like a twelve-year-old.

At least you don't pretend.

I would like to let you know that I associate you
with Adventure
and Risk.
If I were your girlfriend I would meet you every day in my tight black pants and platform boots.
I would paint black angel wings on your tattooed back and fuck you blindfolded.
I would leave bite-marks on your shoulders and the marks of corsets in my rib cage.
We would be beautiful.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is,
Sometimes, I miss you,
And when you're holding me in those seven minutes of sunrise,
I
(secretly)
love you.