when I talk to hippies;
'there's evil in this world.'
'sure.' I'll humor it.

If you're my ex, I'll call you on new years.
if you feel used, don't worry. I do too. 

There's no feeling worse to me than being flirtatious or coy or fun with someone (any sort of connection that gives you that little nervous, electric spike of adrenaline when you lock eyes with them a half second too long) until you admit to them. You admit to them, that despite the cliche, you find them really beautiful and interesting. That is not to say that you submit to them, but then its treated that way: as if all along you were a rough and the diamond had been finally squeezed out of you. 
"Thanks."
Then you lay in bed, awake, wondering if they'll ever talk to you again. Mostly, wondering how fair the world must be that it hurt in the first place, let alone still hurts.

Maybe they DID take a prize from you, after all.