I don't ever wonder what he's doing. Or wonder how he feels on certain hot topic issues. I don't care what his favorite color is. Or inquire about his mother's condition. I don't want to hear about how miserable he is. Even how we met was off. A run in that bitterly turned into the burning of a sacrificial lamb. I don't really quite know if my heart has room for two. I think there's a feelings button missing from my wiring. A wicked cricket for a conscience. It makes sense to want some one else's skin touching yours. It makes sense to hate sleeping in a queen size bed all alone. It's a burning sensation, no one is immune to it. But succumbing to mediocre company however does not. Skin on skin can become simply so. It can become comfortable and safe. A safe bet, yeah that. Being alone could truly save some girls souls.