The girl with vintage dresses and flowers in her hair
is not as naive as you think she is.
With every toss of her satin-black locks,
she'll have you wrapped up around her finger.

The girl with red lipstick and flushed cheeks,
is not as shy as you think she is. 
She's disguising her thoughts; 
she's planning the entire universe in her head. 

The girl with a different book each day in her hand,
is already writing her own
with memories of those who have scarred her
and transformed her into 
the girl with vintage dresses and flowers in her hair
who now has the power to maneuver her way into your thoughts,
and **** you with nothing but a stare.

I think I loved you most the winter your heating was broken
And we’d stay inside all morning
Pretending to complain that we couldn’t get out of bed
Our clothes becoming little islands on the floor,
Ones that we could not quite find the courage to visit

Your hand stayed glued to my hip,
Your breath warming my shoulder
Like a long drag of whiskey
That kind that had a home so far away,
In a glass bottle on top of your refrigerator.
The one that would not be opened
Until that fateful day in February,
When everything went wrong

And on that unbearable night
When you joked that you’d freeze to death if I left you
There was a long silence
Like it might be true.

Now it’s warm enough
That I show too much skin when sitting in bars
And you avoid me like the plague,
Whispering in any girl’s ear that’s near to you
Every time you see me watching out of the corner of your eye

We should have stayed inside when the ice began to melt
Because I think
When those doors opened and we finally ventured outside
The world had changed,
And so had you and I.

I'll sing of all the ways I miss you
and how this sorrow came to be
the verses, lies I should have whispered
the chorus, truths in harmony.

The melody will break the silence
and call your broken heart to me
to be repaired by love unyielding
to broken hymns in minor key.