i poured my heart out, and you fell asleep.
i shared my every thought, and you couldn't as much as give it a read.
now here i am, late at night, writing as if you will see.
i know that knowing me takes patience, nevertheless loving me.
but after everything together i thought you'd care just a little more.
an Encanto you are, but that's not enough, is it?
i was beginning to heal until you said let's be friends -
you really ruined that, and now i feel like all the pieces of myself that i ever so carefully taped back together have come undone.
in your defence, i thought it was possible.
i thought i could see you every day and pretend i don't believe in god for a second and that i'm asking her to give you back to me.
maybe in a past life i was a killer, or an arsonist.
because how did i deserve this?
i have tried endlessly to convince myself and everyone around me that us being friends is a good idea.
do you feel like you could have tried a little harder?
since the day i met you, i have looked for you everywhere i go,
and since the day i met you i have felt like a bother or a little grievance in your life.
im constantly sat in the dark, feeling a heartbreak i thought was impossible to feel,
let alone one to heal.
i go back to the beach again listening to songs i shouldn't be, with lyrics i should not say.
on the way i pass a stranger holding a cigarette in the same hand as i,
and a single moment of eye contact is like an exchange of agreement that the beach was mine now to cry.
i go back to the beach,
to find the night where i was your saviour among the dark stars.
i scream the words that speak to me,
and i try to believe that down the line, everything will be alright.
but i go back to the beach, begging for someone to fucking set me free
