I'm laying on my bed thinking about the right words for a love letter I won't send. I'm a blushing red mess, it's all in my head. Knowing you'd toy with me around your friends. The pen never touches the paper, some drops stain it. They're not ink black, they're wet and blue, just like my tears when you were here. You left me with feelings before I could give them back, you left a mark on my heart. It won't scrub away, look what you've done. Yet I'm happy to be in love, a love I can't express to you directly, cause I know that maybe you wouldn't treat me fairly.