Maybe you could have been more understanding.
Maybe I should have tried harder to be okay.
Maybe we just weren't meant to be
And got lost somewhere along the way.
But maybe if I wasn't so broken,
You would have stuck around,
And that thing we lost, whatever it was,
Could have possibly, just maybe, been found.

So you need my help, huh?
Well, I'm sorry, my dear,
But I fear
I won't be of any assistance.
Do you remember when I cried in the middle of class
And you told me that he was "just a boyfriend"?
Remember when you made fun of my silence,
Even though you knew how broken I was?
Remember when I fell apart
And you impatiently waited
For me to put the pieces back together?
You may have forgotten,
But the memory's fresh in my mind.
You see, I've tried to let go,
But it appears that I'm stuck.
I'm sorry, my dear,
You're out of luck.

In need of escape, they fled for the ocean floor
he persuaded her, "I need you, take my hand"
They drew the curtains and locked the door
Discarded the rusty key on the rough sand

They waded through the forceful waves
That pushed them out, then pulled them in
And enrolled themselves as Queen Ocean's slaves
Commanded helplessly by her recurring din

Then strolling down the ocean bed
An imaginary staircase to an alter
With an imaginary priest where they would be wed
He knew her love for him would never falter

And that's how he knew he'd won
Even though he'd lost himself in the water
Because he had her now, the deed was done
All the while the waves just whispered; "love is manslaughter"

Could you be a little quieter? I don't want you to over hear yourself.
Could you be a little less confident? You forget your wings and I think you fell.
Was it from hell?
Where did you get that vile sense of knowing who you're not?
Don't get caught dreaming
About the seemingly impossible.
Not everything is plausible,
Some things are just impossible.

I'm sorry but you're under arrest for impersonation
There will be confiscation
Of your soul.
Which seems to have been sold my dear.
Why didn't I hear of this?
I'm sorry but the story you call your life seems to be a lie,
So don't even try to change it.
Looks to me like a hit and run.
You hit yourself, my dear, well done.

Could you be a little more clear? I don't think you know just who you are.
Could you please stop convincing yourself what you think you need? You won't go far.
You're no shooting star.
Your attitude will get you killed here by midnight just so you know.
No where to go.
Just get out of your head right now please.
You fall to your knees as I tell you

I'm sorry but you're under arrest for impersonation
there will be confiscation
of your soul.
Which seems to have been sold my dear.
Why didn't I hear of this?
I'm sorry but the story you call your life seems to be a lie,
So don't even try to change it.
Looks to me like a hit and run.
You hit yourself, my dear, well done.

Six months of
wishing,
wanting,
crying,
and trying
to be better,
to maintain a love that was tragically one-sided
and doomed from the start.

*******.

Six months of scars,
of long sleeved shirts
and pathetic excuses,
of lying to my parents
and telling myself,
"Things will get better."

*******.

Six months of long distance,
of broken promises,
missed phone calls,
and waiting for you to come home.

*******.

Six months of leading me on,
of empty words
and false I love you's,
said too soon and too often
but never truly meant.

*****. You.