Hearts don't break, y'all. They bruise and get better.
There is a point when tears don't work to wash things away anymore. Grabbing for breath has now broken my fingers.
Make love to me like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.
...others, with halos shaped like rollercoasters you'd stand in line to ride twice.
I am standing like shoe polish on an overstocked shelf hoping that one day someone will pick me to make things better.
Knowing me is easy. You can still twist your hair and feel silly. Look up the word tacky and have a salad. But when we're together you pull bread apart with your fingers into bites sometimes so small I gotta remind you, Peach, it is okay to be hungry.