When you look at me and ask me to tell you the truth i'm basically expected to pretend.
Pretend that my heart doesn't beat at pace whenever other people talk about you.
Pretend that people don't look at me funny because I'm still crazy about you five years later.
I have to pretend that kissing you doesn't turn my mind inside out,
So that the world isn't illuminated, hot and colorful instead of bleak cold and careless.
Careless, what you claim you're not, but I see it in the way you talk to me,
Like I'm supposed to walk through your words like gusts instead of letting them hit me like thrown bricks.
They hurt, your words, sorry for telling the truth
Unlike every girl that's lied to you and told you she loved you.
Okay, if they really loved you tell me this:
Did their tongues twist and crack with drought when they tried to put it into words?
Did they ever get lost in the sea that is your eyes, so sad, yet so hopeful when they shine in the light?
I see it,
I see it all the time, when we lay back in those polyester seats.
I'm sure mine are the black holes of a hopeless romantic,
Because under the circumstances, you've unfortunately stolen my heart,
taking all hope with it and hugging it to you.
Did they write down their thoughts of you, put you in their stories as the more than ideal heart thef?
Did they turn to you for help, not becuase you were their boyfriend, but because they knew you would listen because that's just the person you were.
I did. I Always did, and it's gonna come back to me one day.
So don't expect me to turn around when you call my name, I'll be too far gone on the downward spiral of heart break.
But when I look at you and you ask me to tell you the truth...do you think I'll say any of those things?