You make my heart shake, bend and break. But I can’t turn away, and it’s driving me wild. You’re driving me wild.
I’ve been listening to Troye Sivan’s new songs, and other songs too, all of which are love and heartache related.
Bad mistake. All I want to do, now that I’m all nostalgic and shit, is cry my heart’s content out.
Only fools fall for you.
I want to shout that to his face. I’m the biggest fool for falling for him. I don’t know how he did it to me, how he got me so curled around his finger. I’m just incapable of understanding him, and well, understanding myself for that matter.
Anything hurts less than the quiet.
Please, stop it. Just stop. I hate it when you’re so quiet. I can barely go a day, but months? The silence is deafening, it’s suffocating, it’s everywhere around me. I’d rather be spitting blood, than have this silence fuck me up.
I see swimming pools and living rooms and airplanes. I see a little house on a hill and children’s names. I see quiet nights poured over ice and Tanqueray. But everything is shattering and it’s my mistake.
It is my mistake, or is it?
Around his little finger, that boy has got me curled. I try to reach out, but he’s in his own world. This boy’s got my head tied in knots with all his games. I simply want him more because he looks the other way.
That is me in one verse.
Because I can feel the rivers, winding through the lands. Two lines and a poem, you know, like a kind old rye. You know we could talk in that language, only we understand. It’s a long way down.
I feel like Hazel looking at the swing-set listening to this verse, only worse, like Hazel without her Gus, because Gus’s gone and you’re not here. You’re never here.
It’s really freaking exhausting loving you.