“Text me when you’re home.”
“Call if you’re scared when you’re alone.”
“Tell your family I say hello.”
“What’s the answer?” Even though I know.
“I like your hair that way.”
Listening to every word you say.
“Let’s decide together.”
“Wow babe you really are clever.”
“My arm is fine, it’s not asleep.”
“Turn my phone on so I hear it beep.”
“I’ll help you with those.”
I notice you in your new clothes.
“You look beautiful girl.”
Knowing you’re without makeup, your hair without curl.
The truth is that we’re attached to a phrase.
One that gets cliché in some ways.
I’ll say it still, but I’ll say these too.
These are all the ways I say that “I love you.”
They could have easily just filmed that scene with John reading the newspaper in TRF with him in actual clothes and not a wet body, bathrobe and shaved legs. Script choices. Costume choices. Directorial choices. Extra chest. Extra legs.
What a day,
What a day,
Not a thing went my way.
I’m frustrated, and furious.
But men are supposed to be impervious.
I’m a mento and coke,
I’d explode if I spoke.
I’ll hide the message in a bottle.
I’m 100mph like a torqued throttle.
But this girl I’m with is unlike the norm.
She calms me down so quickly,
The calm to my storm.