sometimes i feel helpless because all i have is a necklace, four year old letters and a few text messages.
i have no proof we were real.
we don't have pictures together, our love doesn't seem tangible. like it was a figment of my imagination.
i feel like a child insisting santa is real.
i have no proof we were real.
it’s like i’m hallucinating and making up our love story in my head
the you i see is not the you everyone else sees. because i know you in ways others don’t
i know you don’t lie to me
i know you’re honest with me
because you don’t know how to be honest with yourself or anyone else
i know how hard it is for you to find people you trust
that’s why you can’t let go of me
i know all of this, no one else does.
i feel like a child insisting santa is real.
everyone insists that you are horrible,
you played me,
you hurt me,
you don’t really care,
you didn’t really mean what you said
that i deserve more
i feel like a child insisting santa is real.
because i have no proof that the you i know really exists.
i have no proof that a part of you is attached to me
because you never show me, you only tell me
because actions speak louder than words
because i am screaming about you and you are
only whispering about me
i feel like a child insisting santa is real
because i love you when i’m in the middle of an exam
i love you in the middle of my work out
i love you when i’m tipsy at 5pm
and when i’m drunk at 6am
i love you when i’m sober as hell
i love you no matter what
but you don’t know how to love me,
not really
you don’t know how to let yourself love me
you only love me when the lights are off,
when the curtain’s drawn
you can’t love me to my face
because i scare you to death
you can’t love me in front of a mirror
because your reflection terrifies you
you don’t know how to love me
you are afraid to love me
so you pretend you don’t
and no one believes me when i say you do
i feel like a child insisting santa is real
i cannot keep letting you walk in and out of my life
it’s like i’m 8 and i’m finally being told
that leaving cookies and milk out was for nothing
that santa isn’t real
i realize that
i cannot keep letting you walk in and out of my life,
and that santa doesn’t sneak into my apartment on christmas eve
but i still keep my door unlocked for you.
like a child insisting santa is real