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Not the Fuel to your engine.

I don't think we are going to work out

Sorry but I don't think we are going to work out You seem so starved But I have no appetite. I don't want to be a meal For you. I don't want your gentle hug followed by your insatiable hunger. I will give up the comfort and stability you give me As long as I can escape this This feast you make of me. I'm sorry I know I wanted this But I can't become a meal I am not going to be degraded to being a full course for your satisfaction. I know I am at fault for whatever hunger you were suppressing But I will not let you devour me. I'm sorry We aren't going to work out.