” I have a plethora of incomplete love stories,
That hide behind my eyes,
That play peek-a-boo every time I laugh at your futile jokes,
I have a plethora of incomplete and hurtful love stories.
I’m known to fall for the bad apples,
I have an eye for details,
Details of destruction, evidently.
So, when an awkward, nice guy,
Happens to stumble upon my existence,
I have my reasons as ammunition,
A strong wall of polite rejections,
A bucket full of – “I don’t see you that way.”
And bullets of -“Let’s not ruin what we share.”
Hand grenades of meaningless sorries,
I’ll even call us the ‘victims of time’ because I’m too scared for confrontation.
I have them all ready. All at arms, waiting for my command.
This war unfolds, for my pretense to stay at a moral high ground.
Truth be told, I’m known to fall,
Fall too hard, fall too deep,
All for the wrong ones.
Why, you ask? I wish I knew.
Probably because you can’t fix the good ones.
Instead, I spare myself the guilt,
The guilt of possibly breaking your heart,
The unease of turning you into a cold stone.
The burden of being your first.
I want to stray away from that path.
So, I take the easy way out,
Blame it on who I am,
Ensuring you have no doubts
Because there’s no such thing as – He’s too nice for me, right?
So, every time I meet a nice guy,
I know what I have to say
“Let’s be friends” and
“Don’t fall in love with me”
Because honey, I’m not here to stay.