I love you when I'm high.
Sober me isn't a fan.
Then again, I don't really like anything when I'm sober.
Don't take it personally.

Sometimes your arms feel like home,
They hold me tight, your hands
Stroking the back of my head,
Reassuring me that, yes,
I am okay and, yes,
Everything will be okay
Because you are here,
So there's nothing to fear,
And I couldn't possibly feel safer.
But sometimes your arms feel like a cage.
There's just enough air for me to breathe,
But I am trapped in your fierce, unwanted grip.

I'm sorry that I don't feel like sharing a bed
After I told you I was depressed and you
Told me to stop freaking out and calling you.
I'm sorry that your words hit me like a tidal wave
And brought me to the bathroom
With a knife in my hand.
I'm sorry that one, two, three, four cuts later,
I was bleeding out on the floor,
Practically unconscious, but awake enough
To see the growing pool of red.
You're sorry I resorted to harming myself.
I'm sorry that I didn't finish the job.

I grew up thinking that love, only love,
Could save me from myself, but maybe I was wrong.
Maybe love is the thing I need to be saved from.
Maybe love is the real monster here.
Every story has a villain.
I just never imagined that you'd be mine.

Her skin was cold as ice
And pale as winter snow.
She tried to make it right,
But it was time to go.

How do you say goodbye
To everything you know?
She really did try,
But it was time to go.

Don't waste your prayers on the dead.
The living need them more.
Close your eyes and bow your head.
She spreads her wings and soars.

Like an angel she flew,
Said farewell to the world below.
Left everyone that she knew
Because it was time to go.

Lately, I haven't been able
to get you out of my head.
He doesn't like it
when I talk about you.
He says he doesn't mind,
but I can see it in his eyes,
just like I see you every time I close mine.
I still carry you with me,
in my heart, my soul,
everywhere I go, and I know
I shouldn't. I know that.
I need to let you go.
For my sake, for his sake,
for yours.
You're just a memory now,
fading a little more each day.
I need to let you go.

*I need to let you go.

If I carved the words "I love you"
into every inch of my skin,
would you believe them?
Would you believe me?

If I painted a picture of my heart
with the very blood that it pumps,
would you cherish it?
Would you cherish me?

If I promised that there was no one else,
that there was only you,
would you accept that?
Would you accept me?

I live in fear
  that you could live
    without me.