So much of our lives are concentrated on the kindness of others, and I guess happiness is found when that kindness is reciprocated. But I can't hold onto happiness for more than days or hours or minutes at a time and I can't leave my room because I'm obsessed with the idea of falling asleep to the sound of you breathing. I've been sleeping in this bed for too long. I've called it ours when I should be taking back what's mine. You're not mine. And I've found all the love in my heart will never reciprocate unless I improve upon the person I am. But I am stuck, I am fractured, I am a piece of shit, I am a nervouswreck for your affection and I am all yours. I remember almost seeing you break down in tears and I wish I could've laughed in your face, your fucking disgusting face that deserves my fist.
So for the last time, we were 15 and we were in your parents' house. You were tired of my songs and I was tired of your lip so I shut you up. On a couch made for two where we sank into each other's anatomies like mixed paint. A portrait of youthful complexion I can't revisit, but why would I want to?
I said nothing ever changes, but I lied.
So I'll keep telling myself there's no trace of you, that I don't smell you in my sheets. So I won't rub your shoulders with my hands. You're not in my heart, you are my heart. I'll move on.
Гуру Песен