zephyr
The guilty undertaker sighs
The lonesome organ grinder cries
The lonesome organ grinder cries
That's the thing about feelings, though. They generally make more sense inside than out.
Really, you should have known better than to assume the worst of Sam. And really, that assumption is based more on your own hurt and history than anything he's said. You've spent a long time keeping people out, and you're damned good at it these days. It's easier than letting yourself get hurt again.
But Sam deserves more from you. He's fragile and delicate and trying so hard. C'mon, fucker, get it together. Just open your eyes - there ya go - an' then lean forward - slowly, gods fuck, the world's already spinning fast enough - aaaand elbows on your knees so you don't keel over, there ya go, now reach out, try'n reach his knee or something, hand, shin, whatever, just as long as it isn't his cock----
"Red. Stop."
Your sable eyes focus in on his face. "'M sorry. I shouldn'a said that. Look." Rubbing your thigh, you scoot forward toward him. "I like ya, Red. A lot. Yer a good sort, an' I wish ya could see that. But what you need.... it ain't someone else. Havin' a lover ain't gonna fix th'way ya feel 'bout yerself."
Reaching out you try to put a finger under his chin, bringing his face back up to yours. "You gotta learn t'respect yerself. Find that... that value ya want in you. Or y'aint gonna find it anywhere. Ok?"
Really, you should have known better than to assume the worst of Sam. And really, that assumption is based more on your own hurt and history than anything he's said. You've spent a long time keeping people out, and you're damned good at it these days. It's easier than letting yourself get hurt again.
But Sam deserves more from you. He's fragile and delicate and trying so hard. C'mon, fucker, get it together. Just open your eyes - there ya go - an' then lean forward - slowly, gods fuck, the world's already spinning fast enough - aaaand elbows on your knees so you don't keel over, there ya go, now reach out, try'n reach his knee or something, hand, shin, whatever, just as long as it isn't his cock----
"Red. Stop."
Your sable eyes focus in on his face. "'M sorry. I shouldn'a said that. Look." Rubbing your thigh, you scoot forward toward him. "I like ya, Red. A lot. Yer a good sort, an' I wish ya could see that. But what you need.... it ain't someone else. Havin' a lover ain't gonna fix th'way ya feel 'bout yerself."
Reaching out you try to put a finger under his chin, bringing his face back up to yours. "You gotta learn t'respect yerself. Find that... that value ya want in you. Or y'aint gonna find it anywhere. Ok?"
The silver saxophones say I should refuse you
But it's not that way, I wasn't born to lose you
But it's not that way, I wasn't born to lose you
