×, listen to what is never said.
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to fall inlove is pretty
to have someone hold me
is where i wish i could be
a place i could call home
where i'd never feel lost
& lonesome
where i can put my mind to rest
where i'd never have to worry
if i came from a mess

for you will embrace me
after a tiring day
by telling me i did great today

but love, it isn't pretty enough to romanticize

when you've done everything and sacrificed

only to end up lonely and then you'll realize

you're never enough in your lover's eyes

it isn't pretty
when you've lost all the time
you should've spent in growth
instead of crime

you'll miss all the days
of being happy alone
the pieces you've fixed,
you chose to abandon

promises to yourself,
you failed to keep
how are you
after that special someone left?
is there anything you own
deserves to be kept?

this, i tell you,
pain isn't—but love is pretty,

they are those lonely and happy respectively

two different things that spells beauty
your strength when applied correctly

but if love is the reason of your ruin
without any sign of resurrection from your pain
leave and live by then,

you're worth more than a thousand love confessions
—probably beautified versions of lies

yourself might be harder to love,
but isn't it pathetic to give out all your love
without giving a piece of it to yourself
who must've been dying to have it all at once?