It was you I wrote songs about. It is you I see first thing in the morning before I open my eyes, like you’re carved into my fucking eyelids from the inside. It’s you I see at night, a second before I fall asleep, like you’re printed on every goddamn ceiling in Europe. I don’t want this to end, and my reasons are purely selfish. You made me forget about the drugs and remember about the art. But I’ve a feeling I’m not the only one who’s enjoying this arrangement. Why fuck it up? Because of a brief, one-sided kiss? Fallon is not a threat. Fallon is not even a hiccup. The only girl I’d like to be
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