I see you hide your stretch marks
when you change your ***** shirts
I see how fast your body moves
to cover up what you think makes you less lovely

but I do think they're beautiful
it was a time you don't remember
when your body was swollen
and your heart burned like ember

so did mine
my heart is swollen
and my stretch marks on my heart
my hips
they're beautiful
and so are you

yeah, I've got information.
but not a single dose for you
but I've still got heart
and I've still got time, that's true

but I can never have too much
because I don't have enough
all while never knowing
who even gives a ****

you wanna hear me complain ?
doubt it
I don't want to hear you
but I do

so I get it
what else do you want me to say
I don't always have fancy word play
but I still have things to say
and ideas to marinate in your brain in

meet me half-way

And just like that.
Your heart's resident stops paying rent and moves on.
And yet they remain there still,
kick up their feet,
and get comfortable.
Lock themselves
in the farthest room away
that you can't reach the handle of.
I wish you'd show yourself the door
now that I know
you're not going to come back knocking.

I'd like to think this point in my life
is a period between two parenthesees
a pause for alternative thought to form
& the rest of the story will come back shortly
because I'm tired of feeling this unwell
it's filling up in the pits of me
and I'm gripping on to memories
of when you gave a **** about me
...as if I still give a **** about you
because that's only partly true

we're all lonely
I can see it in everyone's eyes
in the way we say we're okay
behind years of self abusing lies
saying,
really, it's okay
I know that's not what you meant to say

(even though you said it with conviction)
(even though you said it with dedication)

really, it's okay
I know you'll stop someday

(someday isn't a promise)
(someday is a to do list)
(that will sit under your lyrics,
that are so "woke")
(until you remember
what you originally wrote...)

you know change
let's try to think how to arrange
the nature of my lies
and your eyes
and what blinks clean
I'm not in the winning seat
But I'm already ahead enough
not to retreat
you makes these lists
and you see what needs to change
while still clenching your fists
and saying to not trust you is strange

(while I'm stuck in the middle getting antsy)
(my happiness is on a list in the back seat)

taking advantage
of it being warmer than negative
taking advantage and
absorbing the sunset's gradient
I could actually feel it on my skin
teasing me like it's ridding me of my sin

because I've got the sense
that you're around
but that's what these new scents do to me
the snow melts away the blockage in my memory

but nostalgia always finds a way in
and I'm the predator looking for a sniff...
I'd crush it up if I could...
snort it straight if I knew you would

because I want to you to think of me
when the snow melts from the trees
but I want to you think of me
before you think of the speed

years turn into moments and
collectively they resemble something bigger
and I'm constantly arguing
with myself, to myself,
to forgive her

taking advantage
and staying warm in my darkness
taking advantage and
learning to speak less

you're not entitled to my interest
because you're interested in me
most men would call me cold
but that's because I'm trying to be