Intimate Stranger

She said, Bet you're probably gonna say I look lovely. Bet you probably don't think nothing of me. She was right though. I cant lie. She's just one of those corners of my mind, and I'll just put her right back with the rest. Thats the way it goes, I guess.
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This one's for you.

Here's the thing. You know she isnt good for you. She's really just one of those corners of your mind, and you really should just put her right back with the rest.

Yet, you allowed her to open your unlatched door and even showed her right in.

Then there's this normalcy and manageable routine that you so faithfully live by. Those things that you do to keep you from the edge of insanity, those good people you surround yourself with, those who sometimes bore you to death. They keep you in the realm of safety. You wanna be in reality. You do Habits, Order, Predictability. You do Security.

False security?

Then there's her. You cling to her words like bees to honey. It's etched in your mind, you replay it as though on real time. She's one of those things you don't need, yet one of those things you cant deny. The feeling you can't define, yet cannot dismiss. The reason you want it so bad is coz you know you can't have. One of those things u'd never comprehend. You realise you talk a certain talk when you're with her. You look a different you when she's there. You smile, for her. You cry, for her. Everything is her. And it really doesnt make any sense.

And then it hits you. And it hurts like hell when you finally realise what you are to each other, probably the only thing you will ever be to each other. You and her, her and you. You're merely intimate strangers.