and you should tell her whose heart you still have
tucked away in the back pocket of your jeans.
and she deserves to know who sold it to you
in the first place for morning kisses
and cold feet in the bed,
because she plants her lips like daisies onto yours at night
and wears knee socks beneath the duvet.
and it's 3 A.M. and you're thinking about taking a drive
and she is fast asleep,
so you take your jeans and your cigarettes
and step on the gas, alone in your Camaro.
and it's still 3 A.M. when you pull into my driveway
and i'm awake, too.
and i say nothing when you unlock the door
and puff clouds through my kitchen.
but i should've known you couldn't remember
if it was my heart
or the nicotine
that you were addicted to,
and yet i padded to where you were,
pulled out your mug from the cabinet
and i thought about how much you traded
when it came to her.
this is an oldie, like when the arctic monkeys came out oldie. i was hella in my feels as an angsty tumblr emo teen (if you couldnt tell at the mention of cigarettes hahah).
