But haven’t I been confused by you, for your lover?
I feel this something new hover above us.
A drone out to uncover us.
You don’t know how to touch us.
I don’t know where to touch us.
I’d rather be abused by you, than be refused by you.
I’d, however, rather not be accused by you,
For I’ve let myself be used by you,
And my tender heart be bruised by you.
Why am I so amused by you?
I think, I might be you.
Shit! Am I talking to myself?