You think I need you, but I am just fine on my own.
Maybe I thought I needed a change,
maybe I thought you would work for me.
But you're so superficial, so pointless.
Maybe you make me feel beautiful, maybe you are just a cover for my boredom;
I don't want mere entertainment, or superficial change.
I know you wont last long, in a month or two you'll be gone or your straggly remnants will be holding on at the end, and I will wish we had never met.
The stench of your existence lingers long after you are gone like a cigarette smoked yesterday, I try and wash it away, but its still there, refusing to abandon me.
I keep repeating the same mistakes over and over, you're all the same--Never really changing me.