It's almost been two weeks
and it's safe to say that if clocks didn't exist
this would feel more like two years
I sleep on the left side of the bed
just in case you decide to come back
in the middle of the night
I close the front door behind me but I
always leave it unlocked
incase you need to let yourself in
I keep the key to my heart under
the doormat of my soul
You step on it
and I say thank you
I keep all my belongings in my pockets
leaving my hands free for the off chance
that you come up behind me
and reach for one
You cracked open my chest asking
for your heart back
and I handed you the hammer
You didn't even say thank you,
you must have forgotten your manners
somewhere along the way;
somewhere between loving me and becoming enemies
I can't seem to sleep without you singing
me goodnight
The memories race through my mind like
an old tape that only plays on repeat,
I can't decide if it's broken or not.
You were good at fixing things
with your hands,
all hammers and nails and tape measures,
I wonder how long we'd have to pull
on either end before you gave up
and let go
I tell myself it's all just temporary insanity.
That one day you'll come back to me
with a red tool box in your hand ready
to fix the ******* mess you've made
It's a little like trying to treat
a stab wound
with a bandaid
It's a little like telling myself
that you still love me,
because pretending is easier
than facing the truth
and the truth is that
we haven't spoken in months;
the right side of my bed stays cold;
my hands are always empty;
and the front door never opened
again.