Pillow Talk
You’re educated, but kind of stupid. You’re grown, but an infantile mess. You’re overflowing with the future, and yet studiously fixated on an ever-shrinking sliver of the past. The only truly volitional, defining acts of your life have been your squandering of opportunities and refusal of responsibilities. You’re a laughable sham of an adult, a makeshift assemblage of ruinous instincts, warped ideas, and recursive anxieties that somehow looks fetching in a skirt.
But sure, I guess I love you. Why do you ask?
Fuck you, but also…yeah. Guess you’re right.
But fuck you.
It’s like one half of every argument I’ve ever had.
And almost every courtship, come to think of it.
Love is but a debate twixt fools, after all.