You yelled until breathing became a chore
And I took it in sullen silence.

With my hair acting as a curtain over my face,
Because I’m done with your bad impressions.

A victim of second-hand breakdowns,
I sat and traced the flowered pattern of the couch.

I had wanted to hold you and hit you at the same time;

But I knew that your character was made under intoxicated
Conditions with poorly lit expressions.

When I had heard the bottle breaking
Against the door,

Your silhouette shattered into the night.

An arrogant boy had caused the closing scene
everyone had been waiting for;

While the crowd clapped for a return they knew wouldn’t come,
I got your message loud and clear,
“Everyone wants to be loved,
So am I wrong in looking out for my own well being?”