waiting to be hurt again...

I listen to his words waiting to be hurt again.
I listen to his words waiting to be hurt again.
I listen to his words waiting to be hurt again
I LISTEN

to his words

waiting...

and as I am addicted to the pain that he causes me
addicted to the blood he draws from me
addicted to the screams the fights the leans the rights the wrongs the songs the
breaking and pulling off of thongs and cutting and bloodening of my already scotch taped heart. i sit in the corner quietly.

I listen to his words.
waiting to be hurt again.
I listen to his words.
waiting to be hurt again

I LISTEN... to his words to his feelings to his emotions to his spirit when broken to his body that's tired with hands that restore hope and good faith. I listen as I wait. I set myself up to hang on a rope I called fate, on a request for a first date for sex to last past eight... minutes. seconds. hours of time I destroy my mind in thinking that he is going to be faithful in knowing he will be honest and true and appreciate all the sweet things I do and be appreciative of my over zealous heart and contribute even after the intial start... boy did I wait.

and I listened. And i Waited. and I Listened. And I WAITED AND WAITED AND WAITED for his phone call that never rang and looked made excuses for everything and denied myself the type to wear a wedding ring because I was tired of waiting threw all the pain because sooner than later he will show his ass he will act up fast and things wont last while you wait...

to be hurt again.