i know you're outside my door,
waiting for someone,
you probably adore.
but these walls are too pretty,
and i can finally feel the floor.
i know that you care,
yet i dont know anything anymore.
all I have is behind that door.
it's hard to keep looking forward.
it's hard to write and not feel stupid,
it's hard to open up and not refuse it.
but I love you and I'm sorry;
for missing all your favorite holidays.