If I was the kind of girl who kept her thoughts to herself,
If I could bite my tongue and bat my eyes without thinking so far ahead,
If I knew how to dip my toes in the water without drowning in affection,
If I were made to be subtle and delicate,
maybe it would be easier to find someone to lay beside on Sunday morning.
But why would I want a boy who only loves the watered-down version of me?
I'd rather spend my life in solitude
than beside someone who only wants me on the shallow end.

every time somone has left
I've gotten a bit better at loving myself
there are lessons in the losses
and I've found solace in the vacancy beside me
I don't mean to refute my feelings
I still pray for someone to stay
but I won't let anyone feel as though they complete me
no one can disturb the peace I created in solitude

I am aware of the reality of you and me
but I like to believe that in another life we are what we aren't in this one
and I'll never tell you but the spaces between us became so comfortable
I felt like I'd spend my whole life waiting for you to fill them
I've become aquantainces with the truth and I know someday I won't think of you at all
but still sometimes I imagine us, in that alternate universe
the sweetest escape from what I am so painfully aware of

I want to create silence with you
to know your crevices and patterns
your good intentions and bad habits
please be patient with me
I grew up learning to make a fortress out of my fears
to find comfort in inconsistency
I'm sorry if the way I built my walls ever makes it difficult to see
and if you don't want to stay say it now
because I'm starting to feel at home when you sit next to me
I'm not sure of much but I'm sure of you

when my infatuation dims
midnight conversations
fade into radio silence
I'm sorry for making you my muse
you look at me in ways I always wanted someone to
and in another life I'd love you the way I should
my weakness is I've only ever held on to unrequited love
and I'm not sure I know how to let someone stay
consistency intimidates me
maybe heartache is more of a friend than I'd like to admit

I spend my nights in empty bed sheets
swallowing the words words I want to say
because it seems easier than admitting my fear
that no one will ever suit me quite as well as you
I dwell in all of our might've been's
until I'm drunk on all of the things you'll never hear
and my cheeks are stained with faded memories of you