i tried to spend time with you inside my head
because i'm not important enough for you to give up a lunch break for
or to sleep beside on a 2 o'clock august afternoon as you make the light shine through my bedroom window.
brown was never my favorite color, until i saw your eyes through my tears.

                you think it's romantic to **** the girl that writes poetry about you.
                the first time we slept together you took your underwear off first.
                and kissed my forehead and told me you loved me.

i'm asked why i don't leave you
and i say i live in a house with too many rooms.
that i want everything to happen to me as it happens.
i think you have the most beautiful mind
you're the type of person that people write songs about
and stay up all night crying over
praying to their imaginary friend for the pain to stop.