You say i’m too much of a romantic but you kiss me like you’ve seen all my favorite french films and you never believed in magic but i swear we were made of it that night i kissed the stars on the back of your neck. i loved your hands and you loved the smell of my hair and together we made so much sense that i choked on my tears when you said we met at the wrong time. i was half full when i met you and half empty when you left and since then i’ve been filling my glass with cigarette butts and long drives that make me wonder if falling out of love with you was a bandaid or a bruise. the first time i met you i told you i didn’t believe in love and it took me four shots of tequila and drunken lips to realize that i would have shot the sunshine into my veins if it meant a moment with you and the stars in our skies burned out three days ago but they’re still shining the way they did three months ago and i swear to God i won’t forget you even when my dreams do.
you were so much of a realist that you couldn’t even believe in a happy ending