Please Don't Call Me BabyHalf the time I want something new and cool and the other half I just want my Smush back. But the thing is, my Smush died last July.
A year ago on this day. That's when it started to end. And maybe I should've known. From the beginning because the days following were only a taste of what was to come.
And I should've stopped there. Right there in August where he lead me to believe that he could actually have a soul. When he apologized for things that are normally unforgivable. But I went along, blind like usual. And when he ceased to find satisfaction in the other girl, his eyes were turned back to me. Then December rolled around.
I can't forget a number of things. I can't forget December 1st. I can't forget sneaking away from my house and whispering nonsense in the dark. I can't forget his face when I told him I can't kiss him. I can't forget when he did it anyways. And I most definitely can't forget the way his lips felt on mine. And it drives me up a fucking wall.