Pretty girl, he twisted flowers into your hair, and it took you months to get them out.
He coated your favourite songs with the sound of him, and the moment the bass line hits it's his lips on your shoulder, and you choke on the words he took back from you.
Now; now, the songs belong to somebody else, and the flowers on your ribcage are growing again, and it's his turn to be alone.
I must say you're the only one I've seen him return to, I must say I'm glad you stood your ground.
Pretty girl who didn't take him back when once you couldn't breathe without him.
