You built a house out of the bad thoughts rushing through your head and I tried to burn it down but you got caught in the flames. If it’s any consolation, I like the way you look with the tips of your hair singed off. I’m sorry your mother won’t.
Why must people always have to be either good or bad? What if I was a good girl with bad tendencies or a bad girl who did good things? Must things always be placed in little boxes? What about those who do not fit into any box? What happens to them?
Maybe you light up my day. Maybe you make me smile through the darkness in my head. Maybe you make my stone cold heart beat again. Maybe you woke up the butterflies in my stomach and make them dance every time you touch me. Maybe I like you a hell of a lot more than I've let on but maybe I'm afraid to be close. Maybe it's because I'm afraid to lose you.
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