memory is an image of perfection and i somehow, remember all of you. make believe is my memory of perfection and delicately i've pieced you together just like something of clockwork. you're kind, you smile so lightly and you breathe so deeply when we kiss. you're in tune with yourself and with the beats of the world. you break hearts with grace and you barely even recognize it. i don't even know your first name. i'm so tired and i do nothing. i'm so tired because drinking myself to sleep has become somewhat of a bedtime ritual. i do not miss you, that is true. i'm embarrassed and regretful that i've ever known you to begin with. and you'll never doubt that i don't know. i do, i know every tick and movement inside that soft little skull of yours. i know what moves you, what you love, what you hate, what you desire. you're hiding, but i see you. today it is raining, and i'd just like someone to lay with.