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You still bite your tongue when I ask what he did.
Nothing but cowardice could come from this.
It's all the same.

I see you through your window.
You're crying to your mother.
She's heard it all before.
And she knows that he won't be there.
He won't be there this time.
You're on your own.

Closed minds will never open. So you can stop wasting your time on him.
Your damp eyes are falling out of your skull into his hands, into the rain.

You still bite your tongue, because you love him.
Or so you've said.
This time I'll bite my tongue because you love him.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
What does it mean when you come home every night in tears from the words he said.

I know you walked home alone.
You're bearing bruises on your feet from running away from him for the past two years of your fucking life.
He won't be there this time.
You're on your own.

You're on your own.
Please come home.
We miss the days when you smiled with all of your teeth.
Please come home.

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