It's 3:00am and you've got my beating heart in the palm of your hand.
You're asleep on some girl's living room sofa,
exhaling a BAC of .23, and hoping you won't remember me in the morning.
I think I used to tell you that I'd love you no matter what,
but please tell me,
Is love supposed to make my hands shake this badly,
or my heart feel as cold and unforgiving as the tiles on my bathroom floor?
I remember you used to give me butterflies,
but now all I can feel are the flowers you planted blooming in my lungs,
and God, they're so beautiful,
but I can't fucking breathe.
I keep telling myself that love isn't bruised knees and black coffee at 1:00am,
or hot boxed cars and bottles of cheap whiskey.
Sometimes I can still feel you floating through my bloodstream,
and I think that maybe I need you.
But I guess I think a lot of things
when I've got love notes on my collar bones,
and your hands around my neck.