i sometimes question my worth
am i worth the smile?
the time,
attention,
space,
anything at all?
because all im asking is little.
im not asking for everything
just a little bit.
but it feels like im not worthy
of the hope,
want or simply
the word
together.
it makes me feel hopeless
that im nothing but a waste of space.
i dont want to  be here anymore.
im done with people leaving
im done with being left
im tired of being alone
im tired of feeling lonely
im tired of being me
i dont want to get attached
i dont want to care anymore
because all that caring was giving
to me
was disappointment,
discontentment
and above all
pain.
im tired of that
i want to be happy because i want to
but theres this omen
thats stopping me
please leave me
but maybe im the one
whos grasping for you
and youre just always there
no matter how much i
push you away
i want to go home
i want to leave
its my turn,
now.

my heart nearly stopped every time i had to cross the street
so let’s thank the queen for writing it down
before she’s just another thing i have to step over
all the rest have tickled my feet so far
and everything under construction reminds me that these days
the only remedy seems to be better luck and more cloud cover

i’ve been racing to crash on the couch
just to wake up to see if i have time for it all
and i want the stereotype to be true so i have nothing to cry about  
with the way things are going
you’d tell me not to be so brutal to myself
but the thrill i used to know is now paying its dues to the concrete

i was almost convinced i wasn’t asleep
when she whispered paris
nothing, everything may have changed
so this is not like anything i’ve never meant:

my heart nearly stopped with the regret of not talking to you
it's hard killing birds when you don't have any stones and
besides this time i think i've really done it
two days and this is already my favorite story but
second chances don't have to be so mysterious
maybe i just wanted to see you smile again

i should have said it w/o one of and the s after the L
still choosing o over x
and your pull showed my hands a home in the back of your denim
two across the channel makes the significant not so, if you want it
i’ll keep looking for you so long as you
don’t stop drawing me maps

if i died in my indecision then
your mouth showed me heaven
you’re the closest thing to purpose
i’ve ever tasted

i wish you knew how much i mean that