don’t write me a song/to lose a friend

we had fun head-banging to metal in the parking lot. i laughed at your crazy hair.

the yellow moon thinks we’re fun to watch.

dont you dare ruin the moment with sentiment. your honeyed words.

how could you, when you know my heart is off limits?

stop trying to make this special with soft words, with the blue stars in your eyes.

this friendship or whatever this is. what are we, you and me?

i’m sick of feelings. can’t you just talk about favorite colors and stupid songs?

no, that’s not our star. nothing is ours. we are not a we. please.

the truth? he did it, and then we were done.

if you do it too, i won’t be able to stop myself from running. again.

yea, we love the same things, down to the note in a song. it’s crazy.

we cry for jack johnson and we’d die to play like jimmy page.

yes, we have the same mind, made of the same things. the colors especially.

heck, we have the same favorite pop-tart. who else likes fruity pebbled waffles?

just leave it there, don’t get into the ‘soulmate’ thing. i don’t want to know if we are.

hope flies, truth shatters. i saw the syrupy way you smiled, my stomach sank. don’t lie.

man, we were really flying down that highway, with the streetlights making it a party.

i held your guitar so it wouldn’t fly out. you looked at me like i was cradling a baby.

probably shouldn’t have touched it in the first place. i saw that terrible lovesick look.

does it make me special too, if i am friends with your most special possession?

stop smiling so sweet and soft like the gritty cotton candy taste left behind. we’ll lose this.

and you knew i was broken, why would you hit me where it hurts like that?

hey, don’t dress like me. 80′s is my era, no stealing, no matching. don’t sit so terribly close.

why would you mess with my head? you know i run without looking back.

and don’t write me a song. that’s where it all ended. the notes whispering about love.

don’t write me a song, you know how that killed me.

my mom pulled up his song the other day.she didn’t know it was the one he made for me.

i cried too hard. don’t do it, when you know its wrong. when you know songs are my love language.

don’t write me a song.don’t strum the strings so soft like that.don’t turn me into a melody

with your glass fingertips, your warm ‘hold you’ eyes. don’t name it after me, my hair, my colors.

i’ll lose you.

and i won’t feel a thing.