Look at what you've done,
I thought that you were the one.
Instead you've hurt me:
you laugh when you see me bleed—
You are a calamity.
...
What calamity?
You've always known my nature.
Don't act innocent;
heartbreaking has always been
my true personality.
He wants to make s’mores
You ask me to trust you, but for me,
trust is like roasting a marshmallow.
My heart at the end of the stick
is soft and my love is thick;
the kind of sugary sweet
that can be crushed under extreme pressure
or melted under prolonged heat.
We both already know that
if you ask to take the stick from my hands
to hold it out over the flames,
promising to not let it get burned—
It's gonna catch fire no matter what you tell me.
The Fantastical Truth 