I am collywobbly fine and dandy
and so supercalifragilistically exhausted from this guilt
which feels more like a guillotine
that’s swinging round my neck

like a crescent sickle pendant
engraved with all our sweet talk and my
‘I will love you forever’s or as long as I’m broken

Words
I never intended to be held against me
in the case that I am human
and human,
doesn’t it mean to make mistakes?

I make them all the time

So I’m sorry if the butterflies are gone and I’m just realizing
that I don’t like the bitter taste
of caterpillars that lie rotting in my stomach

They’re weighing down on me
and I know that it hurts
but I guess we’ll both have to live with it

And loosing never tastes nice
neither for the loser nor for the lost

and I could have served my betrayal on a silver plate
coated it with maple syrup and sprinkled it
with all the lies that would’ve sounded
so much better than the hurt

But I did not want you to choke
on the pain that comes
no matter what I put on the table in front of you