I can't think straight
(Or crooked or sideways).
I'm too ******* tired to invent some new distraction
(You're no good at party tricks)
And too scared to figure out what the hell I want.
The water's filling up your lungs—
A kiss could make it all better,
But I'm too busy blowing bubbles
And skipping rocks across the surface.
Despite it all, you stand and wait
When I fall behind on our afternoon walk
And offer me your arm when the trail gets steep.
You're oxygen, but I'm reaching for novacane,
Trying so hard to be indifferent to the spark in your eyes and the part of your lips,
Though I know **** well it's no use.
I am a moth to a flame—
When it burns too bright, It consumes me.
So I'll turn away before it starts,
Blind myself to every truth except the one I live inside:
If I can't love you, I can't love anybody.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
I can't think straight
(Or crooked or sideways).
I'm too ******* tired to invent some new distraction
(You're no good at party tricks)
And too scared to figure out what the hell I want.
The water's filling up your lungs—
A kiss could make it all better,
But I'm too busy blowing bubbles
And skipping rocks across the surface.
Despite it all, you stand and wait
When I fall behind on our afternoon walk
And offer me your arm when the trail gets steep.
You're oxygen, but I'm reaching for novacane,
Trying so hard to be indifferent to the spark in your eyes and the part of your lips,
Though I know **** well it's no use.
I am a moth to a flame—
When it burns too bright, It consumes me.
So I'll turn away before it starts,
Blind myself to every truth except the one I live inside:
If I can't love you, I can't love anybody.
