2:16 am April 9th.

All those nights I spent up late with you.
I really thought you were something new.
You know, not just using me for my face.
Or body.
Or whatever.

I really don't care

I don't need your fake sincerity injected lines.
You've already fed them to me on a silver platter.
And I gladly accepted.
With every syllable, I took them in.
Painted with your fake smiles.
And littered with those pretty little kisses you probably didn't even mean.
All those compliments just rolled off your tongue.

I bet you're a pro at this.

And you knew I would fall for it.
You knew
How could you not?
You're only 5 years older than me.
You're o b v i o u s l y smarter.
Except you didn't throw in the fact that I'm not a star crossed lover.
Eventually:
I knew you used those lies before.
And that 'charm'.
To get what you want[ed]

Did you really not think that this wouldn't affect me at all?

I'm fucking leaning against the wall.
And you just walk away.
But you draw near at the
same time.

You've gotten much too good at this acting shit.

(shouldn't I be utterly repulsed and sick of it?)