You've got a sweater from your first love tucked in your bottom drawer
I've never seen it hug your body or tangled on your floor
And we rarely talk about her, and it's been seven years or more
But you've got a sweater from your first love tucked in your bottom drawer
And I've seen pictures of her and they remind me of me
One where she's laughing with your brother, one where you're both only nineteen
And you say there's no resemblance, and in some ways I agree
But I've seen pictures of her and they remind me of me
The longer I love you the more it's on my mind
What a painfully thin line
Between being the one you love, and being the one you loved once upon a time
'Cause when we talk about her it's in the past tense
You still smile at inside jokes you had, you praise her poise and intellect
And I know that you're not bitter, I know there's no regret
But when we talk about her it's in the past tense
And I can't help but wonder if that's how this will end
Am I the heroine of your story or a footnote for the girl you love next?