Smoooooth.

I see you’re quite eloquent, targeting girls of innocence and using your verbal sense to capture their interest.

I see you telling them that they are beautiful, not just in a physical sense but you are also supposedly referring to their “soul,” even though you hardly even know her yet.

I see you complimenting their features, tellin’ her she’s pretty in every single way yet you’re looking right through her.

Mr. Smooth Talker, “Goodnight” texter, cute voicemails sender.

Your words are as empty as your heart.
No room in there for anyone in particular, yet you reserve just enough space to get inside of her. Then you lie to her, and your words are so beautiful and convincing that she perceives it as a valid excuse as to why you “have” to leave.

You wrote on her heart with pen, and now the pages are soaked with her tears. You walk away fast to avoid watching the ink bleed.

You’re not a gentleman. Just another guy looking to satiate his bottomless hunger for the inner thigh.

notes