I looked for love held by an empty hand
She left yours shaking too hard to ignore.
Brittle bones and cracked knuckles,
Burying your pain in the wall above a bed where she used to lay.
Its empty
Bare
Naked
And you've slept on the floor ever since the creases of her body indented in your sheets started whispering things you wish she'd say.
But no matter how forcefully you scream or how silently you cry
The voices in your head are always too loud.
I guess no one ever told you not to believe everything you hear.
So when your lifeless body is scattered on the floor,
Drugs filling voids,
3am,
And nights never seemed so dark;
When your throats too raw to curse her name
And another "please come back" only makes her feel further away
You'll learn that not every "I love you" is sealed with a kiss
And meaningful words are often emptier than the people who speak them.
When you start searching for the trek marks her fingertips left
Or her scent lingering in the smoke,
You'll learn that not every story has a happy ending
And sometimes the book ends once tragedy begins.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
I looked for love held by an empty hand
She left yours shaking too hard to ignore.
Brittle bones and cracked knuckles,
Burying your pain in the wall above a bed where she used to lay.
Its empty
Bare
Naked
And you've slept on the floor ever since the creases of her body indented in your sheets started whispering things you wish she'd say.
But no matter how forcefully you scream or how silently you cry
The voices in your head are always too loud.
I guess no one ever told you not to believe everything you hear.
So when your lifeless body is scattered on the floor,
Drugs filling voids,
3am,
And nights never seemed so dark;
When your throats too raw to curse her name
And another "please come back" only makes her feel further away
You'll learn that not every "I love you" is sealed with a kiss
And meaningful words are often emptier than the people who speak them.
When you start searching for the trek marks her fingertips left
Or her scent lingering in the smoke,
You'll learn that not every story has a happy ending
And sometimes the book ends once tragedy begins.
