You're in my head. You're in my veins. When I get hurt I'm thinking of you and your hands and the way you shake your hair and the way you furrow your eyebrows.
I told you if I ever broke again I'd call you;
but what if it's three in the morning and I'm alone in a parking lot and I'm broken because I'm thinking of you. I picture you getting in your car with concern all over your face as you grip the steering wheel. And I don't know what you'd be thinking about on your way. But as I'm sitting on the cheap upholstery of my driver's seat,  with mascara waterfalls and stinging eyes, I'm wondering if I made the right choice.
And I realize just how big the world is tonight and how insignificant I am. And of all the people in the world; it's you I'm broken over.
I know just how crazy it seems to try to get over you in the dead of winter when my hands are frozen and how am I to get over you when you won't let me go?