It's always you that I write about
I have to put these thoughts into words
Otherwise they'll just hurt me
And eat me alive
Alive
Until I die
So hi.

I always say it's the end
And then we'll kiss, make up
Whatever.
But it's been nine days
(Yes I'm counting)
Longest time ever.
It's going to get longer
And our memories will get shorter.

You don't care
You make up lies
You send paragraphs to them
Begging for them to stay
Yet do sarcastic smiles
Rip out guts with few words
Only for insignificant me.

And I'm not lonely
I've got beautiful people
But you dug a black hole in me
I'm tirelessly filling it up with words
That aren't from you
And will never be from you again.

So hi.
It's always you I write about
I don't think this will be the last
But I know this is a first
That this really is
The end.

I invited you for a cup of tea and
You never walked by the window.
Maybe you knocked on the wrong door?
Maybe you stopped to smell the roses.
So I put the mugs outside my house and
You still didn't walk by my house.
Maybe I gave you the wrong address?
Maybe I should have planted some roses.
Then I drank my tea without you and
Smiled at everyone that walked by.
Maybe they had seen you walk by?
Maybe they had planted their roses.
I walked to the roses with your mug and
I couldn't see a glimpse of you.
Maybe we both should admire the roses?
Maybe I need to plant some daisies.