It's 11:1,
i don't believe in magic
but right now
you're too far away from me
there's nothing i wish more
than being in your room listening
to old music, drinking cheap alcohol
and smoking cigarettes until it's 7am;
i know i'd have to get the first flight home
or i'd be homeless
but i wouldn't care because
i've never seen a soul as bright
as the stars until i met yours;
we'd read poems to each other
and i'll never be able to forgive myself
for not telling you that i love the way your voice sounds
at the end of every sentence,
then you'd tell me you have to leave
and i'd cry until there's no more tears,
i hate to know that i have to
get through today,
but i know that the gods envy our love
because it's mortal;
i am so in love with you that it feels natural,
like the air that goes into my lungs and
the way my heart pumps blood through my veins
but the thing is that it's 11:11,
i still don't believe in magic
and you're still too far away from me.
