I always feel like you can see my insecurities;
they come stumbling out, through my fingers, over the rim of my mug.
I think you prefer secure women and I’m not that pretty.
I’ve spent too many years coddling my insecurities, living with them as if they were cats rubbing up against my legs.
As if I’m not sorry about them, maybe a bit embarrassed.
Ah there they go again, jumping on the table, sorry, they know not to do that.
They just wants your attention, don’t give into the begging.
I’ll feed them when you’re gone.

A Different Beast – Cecilie K (via ceciliewriteswords)
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