Your love's measured in years and what you're willing to give.
My heart counts the bruises I let you inflict on it. My love's measured in pain and what I'm willing to take.
Yet, we go on.
As time goes, we come to realize that you usually hurt me less and I love you more.
"Just a little while longer, please?" She was begging. She never begs. Must be that desperate. She feels like an alcoholic, begging for one last drop of bourbon. She looks like it too.
"Why do you want to stay?" He asks, as if he didn't know the answer
"Because it's better here than out there. Because illusions are more comforting than reality. Because no matter how badly I fuck up in here, it can't be worse than when I do something right out there."
He looks at here with a cocked brow. She hangs her head "Because you love me here."
