When I walk with Mary, **** doesn't seem as bad
She doesn't judge me harshly, in fact she makes me laugh
And yeah, she's a little harsh around the edges,
not everyone's particular "Cup of tea"
But none of that **** matters when it's just Mary and Me.

I wait for the footsteps up the stairs
Heavy, familiar, you'll say your back hurts
As you wrap me in your arms

And the times that you fell short will not matter
After all, we all have growing to do, right?
And I'll take you in my arms

I've waited for you to come around a long time,
Familiar, lover, and we'll say we missed this
As your hands graze freshly shaved legs

We'll both pretend we're not lying to ourselves

******* if it doesn't hurt to be used again
Washed up and bleeding and wildly confused again

Why do I let myself stab my own heart?

And **** if the smoke isn't clearing the room, my head or my heart or my impending doom

Why can't I stop myself falling apart?

The scar in your eyebrow, the way you know exactly where to stand to raise my temperature

These are the things that will haunt me most

I swore I wouldn't do this to myself, swore I wouldn't play the game

But the chess board was already set in my head

And it only ends with me losing, it always ends with me losing

The three freckles on your lips keep my heart stuttering,

But I will never be yours, and you could never be mine

And it will keep me wondering til the ends of time.

Forever seeking a feeling of acceptance I've only gotten skin to skin

A person can only take so much damage, and when the lights turn on they turn away

I am not a haunted house

But the draft of emptiness looms here, and acceptance is hard to find

The powers that be will keep me locked in, love was always my biggest sin

The fulfilment of my teenage dreams, I couldn't have imagined a better lover
Until it was over

A scorching mark that leaves me breathless even still, love, or maybe just lust, burning brilliantly, blue instead of red

It was just too hot too touch
I'll always be too much

Fingertip trails glisten across every inch of my skin,
I couldn't have displaced myself any better,
Until I could

This will surely leave a mark, even still, or maybe just an impression, forever a memory, paint never dry

It's just too wet to touch
I'll always be too much

I'm not sure if this is an existential crisis, or just my reality

To be lost without a clue, deeply alone, mood changing every minute because reality sinks in

And I'm just not the main character. I never will be. I'm some forgettable auxillary background character

And that's true for everyone, but is the deep seated dread that you truly don't matter also ever present?

Does everyone's heart feel like a shell of fear, worried that you're just here, existing instead of living?