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All men are trash.
I know it’s true because I have an alarm set to tell me when I wake up every morning
And I tweet it once a day just to make sure I don’t forget.
But I’m still a racoon,
And I live for dumpster diving
Sometimes I think you could be an Ulta dumpster
Right after the employees just put in all the not-actually-damaged damaged goods.
Full of shit I don’t need, but I’ll happily take home anyway.
Even if you just take up space.
The space you’ll never quite fit.
I keep putting the ball in your court, but
I decided I don’t feel like playing these games anymore.
So I bagged up all the dreams of things we could’ve been,
Tied it with a double knot,
It’s probably sitting at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.
The only time this love every had any weight.
And probably the only time you fell for me.
They say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure,
I’ve been digging for years and I’ve never found a Tiffany necklace
And no man has ever bought me one.
Or flowers. Or dinner for that matter
Sometimes I feel like trash
The kind that no one wants to bother to take out
They just wanna Netflix and chill
But he doesn’t have Netflix
Just a bedroom floor littered with condom wrappers
One for every trick he’s ever played on me
I so desperately want to ask what are we
But I want him to
Just so I can say that it’s over
But I can’t get over you
You’re odor lingers on my body for days
I can almost taste it
I just wanna taste your lips
But this love is expired like spinach I kept in the fridge for 8 weeks
Because I couldn’t be bothered to deal with it
I wanna be you’re girl,
but when it comes to relationships you can’t be bothered to deal with them.
Now I feel like trash.
I guess I’ll just have to take myself out.


23 year old poet from Columbus, Ohio. Follow me on Twitter and Instagram (@CandyCain152) for blog updates, artwork, for my random thoughts and to hear all about what I'm reading and listening too.

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