This slow-spread disinterest is poison, a plague. I'm bored by your vacuous eyes' empty gaze.
Dating a man, an arrogant one, is like touching the sky to be burnt by the sun.
I wanted you once---a vortex, a myst'ry---but here it is clear that you'll not truly see.
I wanted you once when I thought you were great, but seeing you now simply fills me with hate.
This slow-spread disinterest is contagious and spreads; to my eyes, to my lips, to detachment in bed. I'm bored by the touch I once wanted so much; I'm becoming contemptuous of all that was us.
Dating a man, an arrogant one, is like poison, like rapture completely undone.
I wanted you once when you then held my gaze, but your distant disinterest's an ineloquent haze.
The slow-spread of loss and your soft-shot impunity are chasms without even peaceful immunity. Dating a man, an arrogant one, is like chasing the clouds while wanting to run.