There's a danger in sleeping with a friend.
You find out he's just a stranger in the end.
Pretty words, they trip me up,
then I fall and get my heart ripped up.
You shut the door, left me cold.
Thought you'd say more, if I wait I'd grow old.
Funny how you insist you're too busy for me,
when my kiss had your eyes dizzy for me.
I should have known.
Your eyes were closed,
the way you moaned,
they weren't just for me alone.
I'm not a solution to your heartbreak,
I wish you weren't another memory for my heartache.
You used to ******* adore me.
I didn't realize that's what ******* a ***** means.
I used to swap spit for love,
lips for love,
***** for love,
but all I got was ***** who think
I'm not good enough.

I hope my name always sticks on the back of your tongue
Like bacteria, our memories will accumulate
so when you scrape it off every morning
tears will form in your eyes from the way it burns.
And for every night I sleep in peace
I want you to toss and turn in your bed
with arms grasping for something that will
never warm you in your loneliest nights.
Yes, I've heard your apologies
but chose to close the door
so when you scream you're sorry into the abyss
the regrets will echo back to you
the two of us are no more.
It plays on, like a broken tape
that will drive you insane.

I'm tired of fighting these wars,
taking your bullets,
and bleeding for months.
But if you ever
took your gun,
unloaded it,
and walked away,
that would be the greatest pain
I'd ever face.
Please don't go.

Maybe the person you're with
doesn't have to be your best friend.
Maybe the person you're with
doesn't have to share your values.
Maybe the person you're with
doesn't have to be with you
when you need them to be.

Maybe it's okay for your other half to smoke
even though you hate the smell that sticks to their clothes.
Maybe it's okay for your other half to drink
even though you're uncomfortable when it's with strangers.
Maybe it's okay for your other half
to be a stranger.

Maybe it's okay that the person you love
makes you cry endlessly for days.
Maybe it's okay that the person you love
swallows your heart and spits it to the ground.
Maybe it's okay that the person you love
isn't the right person
for you to love.

You might not believe this,
but I used to be obsessed with love songs.
And I mean, blast-Colbie-Caillat-on-repeat obsessed.
Crazy, right?
Obviously, I don't listen to them anymore.
It's too difficult.
Somewhere between all the crying,
and all the texts sent to my best friend saying "I'm so ******* done with him",
and all the puffy-eyed faces that whisper sorry the next day,
I can't muster myself to listen to those silly tunes anymore.
They've got a cheery tempo,
but they make me too sad.
Ironic, huh.
But love songs are manufactured and autotuned anyway.
They tweak voices to fix falters and errors,
then they come out polished and happy.
Somebody should have told me
that real love is not
that simple.

Naive boys think my cloudy skies are mysterious.
They like to play in my rain, jump in my puddles.
Smile. Laugh. Have a good time.
Some even dare to take out their tongue and taste me.
Then the storm comes
and they run.
They jump from booming thunders,
shudder from howling winds,
and close the door
to block my loud cries.
That's why I hate it when people say they love the rain.
Because they only love me
when they're away from me.

Every fight is a natural disaster:
rage spreads like wildfire;
voices boom like earthquakes;
tears spiral like tsunamis.
He leaves a broken home of my heart
with debris of what used to be love.