Guess you hear that a lot. I remember saying it a couple of times myself. You’re cute. Of course you are. Adorable eyes you got there. I wish I could stare into them. In person. Say what I’ve always said – hidden behind a smartphone application – to your face. To your beautiful but indignant face.
You’re cute. You most definitely get that a lot. Do you take that compliment and the complimenter to bed each night? A new raunchy adventure everyday. Window shopping till you find what you like. I wish I could get picked too. You are gorgeous. You are a looker. Gets easy for you to use someone like you do. Yet I have heard, not seen. Believed, not felt.
You’re cute. I hope it stays. I wanted a friend to talk to. Not just a pretty little face. Hey, it rhymed. But you don’t give a shit, do you? Of course you don’t. How easy it is for you to sit on a throne of empty one night stands as I starve myself one more night. Afraid to message, call or whatever. My problems, just like myself, are menial. How fickle these 21st centuries relationships are? How fickle are you?
You’re cute. Fuck my insecurities. These are ramblings of a tattered heart and brain, both twisted beyond compare. Gives me something to worry about. Gives me something to live with.
I’ll survive I guess. And I know you will too. After all, you’re cute. And that much is true.