soulmates or something

it's like two people are supposed to look at each other and then just fall together. no meaningless awkward preamble, no hatred; just love. why isn't it like that? why are there always so many fucking steps? what if im no good at dancing and even worse at pretending i am? just look at me. and do it again. and again and again, until you're certain you could love me the same way you want to be loved. and if you can't or you don't want to, then tell me, so i can stop picturing your face in my daydreams.

im not all-together here and i could only hope to be most of me with someone else, but who wants fucking split percentages? everyone wants everything or they just want to fuck and block out the light for awhile. fine. we all do it -- we're human. i want more than that now, but how could i ever afford it? in this economy, in these clothes, in this body that god decided to teach a lesson. who is picking me up at the thrift store and taking me home to fill their space? 

don't you have to be something someone wants to look at for anyone to see you? is that superficial? i know it's hypocritical and misguided, but that's my decor. i can shed those thorns if and when it truly matters. we all have our defenses. if i want to keep my tears in my eyes and keep my heart from getting crushed between the celebratory palms of people happier than me, i will keep my thorns pointed outwards and needle-sharp, needle-thin. easily broken, if only someone were to come at me from the right angle. maybe my left side on a good day. some fucking day.