Ronnie and I
Aren't what you call boyfriend and girlfriend,
Because there is no emotion,
I sold all that when I gave my soul,
Even though I still believe in love and whatnot.
Mom met him.
She tried to flirt with him,
he had no part of it- thank god.
She is just disgusting.
I introduce him as MY friend,
But she doesn't get the hint of;
Get your nasty, whore-hands off my fucking boy toy.
I mean, I guess you could call it that.
We have no romance.
But he buys me stuff.
Not like flowers and shit like that,
but monster and boos.
Stuff that, lately, I really need.
YOU ARE READING
My Monster
PoetryHer name was Skylar. And she was addicted. Her substance: Meth/Crank/Glass... whatever you call it, it still screws you up in more ways than one. But after seventeen years of trying to be Ms.Perfect in an unstable family, is this really what she wan...
