before you fall in love with me,
let me tell you that I smoke too
many cigarettes, and I would
rather watch the moon on a
Saturday night than go out and
get drunk at expensive bars with
people that don’t give a damn about me.
let me tell you that I am yesterday’s
paper throw in the garbage, unread.
I am not a romantic midnight walk
down by the park, or everlasting
roses that never wilt. I am not a
gracious ocean, but rather a humid,
filthy swamp. so before you fall in
love with me, run.