Barry Reese – Writer of Badass heroes

You said you think I like it—
the way we ebb and flow,
how one night we’re forever
and the next you’re letting go.

You said I’m hooked on heartbeats
that never keep their pace,
that if you ever loved me easy
I’d have no clue what to chase.

You think I like it.

You think I need the whiplash,
the highs that bruise the lows,
your fingers on my heartbeat,
your hand around my throat.
You think if you quit running,
I’d finally come undone,
like all I’ve ever wanted
was someone hard to love.

Maybe you think you know me.

But you disappear like clockwork,
then swear it’s all my fault.
You build another exit
every time we talk.
You throw “goodbye”
like it’s another way
to say my name,
then wait to see
if I’ll come running anyway.

And I always do.

Somewhere along the way
we stopped loving each other
and started loving the game.
Now every kiss is a question,
every silence keeps score,
and neither one of us remembers
what we started fighting for.

You say I need the chaos.

Maybe you need the proof.
Maybe you need somebody
who keeps choosing you.
Maybe you need the pleading,
the panic in my voice.
Maybe love was never enough—
maybe you needed the noise.

We’re two bad habits
wearing each other’s names.
Two open matches
trying to dodge the flame.
Every “come here”
already tastes like “leave,”
and somehow we still call it
everything we need.

You think I like the ebb and flow
how one night we’re forever
and the next you’re letting go.