You're a shit cake with cum for whipped cream and dynamite for candles.

You're like a band-aid that is slowly ripping off, and I'm still wounded!

Pour your heart out to me and fill my emptiness with your grief.

You can't be the cause and the cure, mon amour.

Kiss me back into place and remind me why we can't be together.

Women fuck us up, break our hearts, drive us mad, and yet we love them; because if we didn't, nothing would make sense.