baby, darling, goddamn
you're making my head spin, split,
wrap around my limbs
twist up my stomach
sweet nothings--i'm becoming a cliche,
feeling heavier than i weigh.
i think i just might like the idea of you
let me spill a little of my mess onto you
cross the 3, 937 miles over to you.
i don't think i'll mean any of this in another week
but i wanna drink it up while it's still sweet,
while my knees still get weak.
maybe i'm faking, maybe you only exist in my daydreams
but i hope you mean it too.
honey, sweetheart, goddamn
i'm gonna choke on these butterflies
i'll be your psychopathic, anxiety-fueled heart attack
you'll be my reason to float, reason to straighten my back
kill my nerves, bury my insecurities
make you real
come a little closer till it's gone,
till i need another fantasy to latch on.