Screwed, Blued, and Tattooed

What's there to say, About you and me. We are two peas in a pod, Like water and oil. We don't mix well. I have sensitivity, with lots of love from the heart. Your just a lump of coal left to a child on a Christmas eve night. You don't love, You don't know how to. Your interpretation of love is way off. Like a washing machine with an unbalanced load, Your brain runs 360 miles per min, With me by your side trying to stay caught up. Just when I think I may have stopped this roller coaster, You crash and burn. You start all over again. This torn into is not for the faint at heart, Just another burial of fait I use to have.