There was soil in my veins and flowers to go along, but since you left they have dried.
I don’t think I have the capacity to regrow them and replace what you left behind.
I met you in late spring and then I was in bloom.
You left me this winter and it happened all too soon.
The snowflakes frayed my fragile mind and I began to rot.
Soon you were gone and I was alone, stomach left in knots.
It’s been 6 months since I watched your back travel off into the distance.
And now I stare at painted walls, wishing someone would listen.
Cause now I’m afraid.
Cause now I’m alone.
Cause now I can’t trust anybody, not even here at home.
The black sun shone on my wounds and I began to “heal.”
But I didn’t know that what I felt was never truly real.
My lips began to chap and my eyes were sunken in.
5 more shots and maybe you’ll come back to me again.
Now this is where I begin to feel bits of you once more.
Like whispers in my ear or us laying on the floor.
Even hand in hand we’re as miserable as can be.
You could break all of my knuckles and it still wouldn’t mean a thing.
We could share the same coffin and still no bells would ring.