Torn

What if we hang out? Will I be able to resist you? We hadn't seen each other in so long. I missed you, missed being your friend. But when I heard that hugging me was one of your best moments lately, I knew even though  I didn't admit it until now, I'm a goner. If I see you again and you want to hug me, kiss me, fuck me, I will relent, I will happily let it happen. And I know that I shouldn't, that it would be bad, complicate things. But what if it didn't? What if we were just exes that had sex? It doesn't work that way, of course, I'm not naive anymore. But still. And of course, there's always that part of me that wants the bad thing just because it's bad. Because it causes a little pain or a good reason to complain, to bitch, to cry. I'm not proud of that, but it's the truth. It probably won't happen. Because I'm sure you don't think of me at all that way anymore. Or just look back at all that as a fond memory. Then I would be hurt because you didn't want me. I can't win here anymore. But I still don't care. I don't want you back. You pissed me off so bad sometimes I couldn't stand to be near you. But you were funny and young and innocent somehow and we laughed a lot. And you're so hot. God, your body. Don't get me started. I just want you to kiss me hard and hold me really tight and throw me up against a wall. That's all.