you paint me a blue sky and go back and turn it to rain.
you changed the rules everyday, wondering which version of you i might get on the phone. well i stopped picking up.
dear john, i see it all now that you're gone. don't you think i was too young to be messed with? the girl in the dress cried the whole way home.
maybe it's me and my blind optimism to blame. or maybe it's you and your sick need to give love then take it away.
you're an expert at sorry. and keeping lines blurry.
you should've known.
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