when everything we touch
either turns to ash
or turns to gold
we must learn
when to hold on
and when to let go

i wish i were something else

her name still rests on his lips
and i taste her when i kiss him
he tells me she's dead but
her ghost is in our bed
and i can't even **** it.

she sleeps between us,
eats at his heart

and he won't even touch me
because i am what she's not.

he tells me she's gone
but i know the harsh bark of her voice
better than i know my own song

i keep singing
and singing
and singing
hoping to cut through what's wrong
i keep singing
and singing
and he knows the words now
but he won't sing along.

no, he won't sing along.

i am now just a handful of negatives
in a box on the top shelf of your heart.

your belly up disposition is an emblem
sacrificing itself to a lesser good
and my head in the sand is just an excuse
to not be there for you when i should.

i was an empty melody
and no one was ever kind enough
not to notice

*except him