The Way I see it

We're both invading the same space at different times of our lives and I have to say, "You're giving me a headache." If it weren't for the fact that you smell like vanilla and taste like cherry chap stick I would have told you off earlier. I'm a fool for you and on my best days your number one fan. But as of the moment, I need for you to stand in that corner in that church building in that third world country so I can appreciate you for what you truly are...the opposite of me!
The phone has rung all day, every day like every 15 minutes. I have no clue how to set it to vibrate so that we can both image me at the same time with that phone in my skin tight jeans pocket. You know the look, you fell for it a hundred years ago and then had the audacity to follow me into this life and fall for it again. When will you learn...fool? Someone told me that you would do anything for me if I asked nicely. I only know how to lower my voice to a whisper while the phrase, "Fucking give it to me cause straight is boring and baby, you are on that road. PRONTO!" Tell me, does that work for you?
Yesterday hung over me like a fat raindrop that only exists in those really off dreams with black and white as the backdrop. I squinted my eyes several times before the vision of you and I holding hands in a thunderstorm and jumping off of bridges began to slowly fade. I hate when the lucidity manipulates the crazy in me to behave itself. That bridge is you connecting me to that disease. Your face is a reminder that we will never get well. We will never step foot into the world of Martha Stewart and Mrs. Clever. My blood boils when I say this bit to your face and the only comment you respond with is, "Who the fuck are those people? And where's the tumbler?" I'm set for life to accept the nutty atmosphere that surrounds me and you in that title. Were we bad girls in our last life?
I'm for sure not ready to settle with you or for you. I know this sounds insulting but look at it from my point of view: you never shave your facial hair for that moment between my legs and I will never call you mine because I wasn't raised in believing that 'happy ever after' was real. So...what do you want from me? My heart on a platter is not for sale or negotiation. Get over yourself...are have you? I'm a little disappointed that you don't share the same philosophy. I mean, I found you slumped over some girl's toilet with your boxer shorts inside out. You smelled of desperation and loneliness. What was a girl to do? She made empty promises of forever, she baked you cookies filled with guilt, she kicked you in that spot between your legs when you said, "I'm not in the mood, fuck you later." She soiled your mind with the thought of pink roses and white wedding gowns. That wasn't me mister. I made you...
into the person who doesn't settle. I need to call you for the 100th time today and tell you that this is over, you need to leave me alone. We are different, we are diseased with no cure, we are nasty in the sack and innocent in the world. Answer your phone so I can hang up and tell my friends that it was me, not you. I'm the victim here, and you...you are standing in a corner with your nose to the wall playing the part of a guest passing through my life. Sign the book on your way out, will ya?