Someday I’ll write a love song
About someone who knows which buttons turn me on, and which ones **** me off.
Someone who pushes both.
I’ll write about all of the romantic gestures, and the realistic embarrassments.
Candlelight dinner; even if all he knows how to make is grilled cheese.
The accidental first **** that he’ll blame on the dog.
Someday, I’ll write a real love song, and I won’t leave anything out.
Every fight, every embarrassing moment, every “I’m sorry.”
All of the ugly parts make it real, and make it beautiful.
I’ll write a love song that Disney will reject.
About having *** too soon, and promising to slow down.
Some promises are okay to break.
I’ll write about the FEAR of losing what I didn’t even have.
A Real love song.
About insecurity stopping us from getting too close.
Real Love.
About only holding on once he’s already gone.
Regretting never saying “I love you”
Real regrets.
I’ll write about him leaving.
I’ll write about a drunken:
**** you! Why don’t you love me? I’m ******* awesome!”
Real.
I’ll sing it before I ever write it.
The next verse about sleeping.
For weeks that’s all I’ll want to do.
I’ll write about missing him,
Hating him,
Wishing we had never met.
Then, someday, I’ll write about getting over you.
In the end, it will still be a love song.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 6:50 PM UTC
Someday I’ll write a love song
About someone who knows which buttons turn me on, and which ones **** me off.
Someone who pushes both.
I’ll write about all of the romantic gestures, and the realistic embarrassments.
Candlelight dinner; even if all he knows how to make is grilled cheese.
The accidental first **** that he’ll blame on the dog.
Someday, I’ll write a real love song, and I won’t leave anything out.
Every fight, every embarrassing moment, every “I’m sorry.”
All of the ugly parts make it real, and make it beautiful.
I’ll write a love song that Disney will reject.
About having *** too soon, and promising to slow down.
Some promises are okay to break.
I’ll write about the FEAR of losing what I didn’t even have.
A Real love song.
About insecurity stopping us from getting too close.
Real Love.
About only holding on once he’s already gone.
Regretting never saying “I love you”
Real regrets.
I’ll write about him leaving.
I’ll write about a drunken:
**** you! Why don’t you love me? I’m ******* awesome!”
Real.
I’ll sing it before I ever write it.
The next verse about sleeping.
For weeks that’s all I’ll want to do.
I’ll write about missing him,
Hating him,
Wishing we had never met.
Then, someday, I’ll write about getting over you.
In the end, it will still be a love song.
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