But, this is Hollywood. Nothing is, as it seems.
You licked your lips & hoped to stitch my seams.
Got in my head & everywhere in between
You wrote me right and called it love
& made me realize the different pages we’ve been on.
We’re lost & alone trying to find something, someone to call home
& here we are in Hollywood. The place we’ve all come to know.
But, you can’t change it or fix it or make it different.
And, I can’t say it or be it or learn to see it.
So here we are writing different things…different endings for different dreams.
& you’re stuck in the idea of what this could be
When it’s really just a collection of pretty words & poetry.
Or maybe it’s not much of anything other than being characters in each other’s stories.
The moment I realized this wasn’t a movie & I knew I couldn’t be the character you’ve written me to be.
I realized you couldn’t be the one to save me. I needed to get out before you got to me.
This isn’t the type of thing that lasts.
This is the type of thing that drives you mad.
You’d take a piece of me to keep & write about.
I’d rip apart your mind & tear your heart out.
Because we’re young, ambitious hearts looking for something to make sense
But, this is Hollywood. We’re always confusing passions with dramatics.
This love or lack thereof isn’t made for a screen
because this isn’t a romantic comedy.
It’s just another soon-to-be Hollywood tragedy.