before you fall in love with me,
let me tell you that I smoke too many cigarettes, and I would rather watch the moon on a Saturday night than go out and get drunk at expensive bars with people that don’t give a damn about me.
let me tell you that I am yesterday’s paper throw in the garbage, unread.
I am not a romantic midnight walk down by the park, or everlasting roses that never wilt. I am not a
gracious ocean, but rather a humid, filthy swamp.
so before you fall in love with me, run.