after the day she told me she loved me, and the day i told her the same,
we never saw each other again

don't tell me that timing doesn't mean **** to true love
cos' cupid needs to learn how to time the shots of his arrows

i'm tired of being his ******* dartboard
i'm tired of being speared through the heart
when i don't have any heart to spare
and i'm sick of the fact that i care

iv'e scrawled her initials all over my arteries
iv'e torn my ******* heart out for her
and iv'e waited
and waited and waited

but you decided not to wait
you rushed us into this mess of ****** love poems and forty minute phone calls and i'm pretty **** sure that cupid's arrow was released a few years too early

i doubt i even know who i am yet
maybe i'm more than a socially awkward
poetry writing, chess-playing, guitar-strumming,
lazy-*** hopeless romantic

maybe i'm more than a wannabe knight in shining armor
more than the idiot that makes the little things grow large

maybe i'm more than what you saw in me
or what others see in me
or maybe i can be who i wanna be

-----

is there a restart button on this thing?
because i lost the game, and i wanna play again

i really, really love you
but i don't know if i still want to
i know this doesn't sound like the first half of the poem
but you leave with me with doubts
and i'm left with but an ounce of push to get you back

let's see how far that takes me