if i burn on the 26th of December you know who to blame for the arson
captured in a photo album of discarded items
i'll collect dust and you can keep collecting glowing coals

your knuckles are still white, months after the crash,
an outline of the steering wheel imprinted in your chest
the irony of a church next to a hospital and you still on your knees, praying for salvation

i'm forced to cry SANCTUARY in my own home
never-mind the pardon for sinners
confession means nothing in guilty hands
when he read your palms spelling M.U.R.D.E.R all you wanted was a ransom note stained with his cologne
but i'll wear his scent every day
and kiss the places where we'll create black holes

i hope you see a flower for what it really is
but what happens when your fits of "he loves me not" turn into a ****** battle with petals scattered across your bedroom floor
i promise he'll pull those petals back together, thanking each one for their fragility
'handle with care' could be written on every item i own and there would still be cause for you to throw them against a wall
after all, i'm here for you to shatter

you may not know my name, but i know yours
we were given two separate maps so please don't compare your scars to mine
my words may never move the ground beneath you, but i've realized that words don't always equal love
love is defined by the direction that our nerve endings reach, and who you dream about waking up next to
i've never been good with words, but i think i'm starting to understand what love is

so i'd like to congratulate your efforts as an earthquake
but my glass slippers are learning to withstand tremors