You had me wrapped up inside of you
And it was the closest thing I've ever come to
Hating my world and what I do inside of it
And inside of... I guess my everything.
I made the wind blow throughout you
And this is how you repay yourself?
You have this way of wanting to forget
And I don't think you understand why.
Forget me.
Forget her.
Forget your own name and let yourself be happy.
I think that you believe that you have to forget
To be okay with what you are.
You are hell on wheels and
You have this tendency to be overwhelmed
By the absence of yourself
That you cannot change.
Let me explain and be quite plain
Forgetting is pain
And forgetting is too tall
Skyscrapers in cities and cop
Cars that showed up for no **** reason
Because you aren't going to jump
And forgetting is letting go
Unwillingly
Of everything you have ever even
Lied to to tell it that you loved them
And forgetting is lies.
You can never forget.
Because forgetting would mean
You got out and you never will
Because the torment you feel,
It lives inside of you
And it is never going away.

My hair my hair
Oh my pretty pretty hair
Once so shiny and fair
Simply beautiful
As I was a girl
Stuck in a world
That seemed a little too big
For my hair my hair
And the pretty pretty locks
And the pretty pretty box
They stuck me in
When my hair oh my hair
I cut it off
And lost just a little too much
For everyone else's luck
Because she cried over
My hair oh my hair
And its pretty pretty locks
But forgive me if I ask
Did she cry when they
Set me in the
Pretty pretty box
In my pretty pretty dress
With my pretty pretty cuts
And my pretty pretty scissors
That I used to cut off
My pretty pretty hair
When the world became too much?

The only thing
I seem to be able to express
Is how much
I want to fall in love again.

You were walking on broken eggshells
It wasn't like you were some kind of
God (I made sure to whisper that
So only you could hear me)
You paraded around and it was like
You were deaf to the shattering
Beneath your feet and to my
Pleading to go back into hiding
Could you not see the guns, my darling?
They shot us down and only because
You know how to break hearts
Without picking your
Feet up from your natural
Day to day destruction.

I'm not quite sure
Which I hate more:
The day you left
Or the day I
*Agreed to all of this.

in case you are not aware,
another month has come and
soon, i guess, it will be gone
you'll be left stranded again.
i'm tempted to, just for now,
to indulge myself on you
with what i have and
i'm wondering how you
could have possibly made it
three months with no piece of me.
maybe you haven't
but i hope that everytime you
hear or see or stumble stupidly
upon the number fourteen,
you think of me.
and how we hit nine months
and i still want to be your longest
relationship when you
get back here.