I left my heart in that tiny room,
with such little space,
you could hardly walk through the door.
I left my heart next to my blue guitar,
up in the window where you greeted me,
down the wooden steps we came bounding down.
I left my heart on the table in the kitchen,
where we sat and made rhythms
because there wasn't enough room at the table.
I left my heart in the sand on the beach,
where we walked when my dad made us get the hell out of that room,
where we'd stay forever, if we could.
I left my heart next to my headphones,
still playing the soundtrack of my summer,
the one that got me through those endless hours in the car.
I left my heart on the corner of the hot tub,
where you made me read you magazine articles,
and we took Courteney there after dinner.
I left my heart in the still of the night,
when you made fun of my music,
while we got lost and didn't even mind.
I left my heart next to my suitcase
when I packed up to leave
and didn't want to wake you up before I left.