This love of ours
is ripped at the seams
I keep falling through
cracks in my heart
Just let me kiss
all of the places
your hands wander
when you think of me
I find traces of you
drowning in cigarette smoke
Sometimes I
hear your voice
in mine
Home doesn't have
an address
But maybe I'm just sick
of feeling empty
and alone
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:41 PM UTC
This love of ours
is ripped at the seams
I keep falling through
cracks in my heart
Just let me kiss
all of the places
your hands wander
when you think of me
I find traces of you
drowning in cigarette smoke
Sometimes I
hear your voice
in mine
Home doesn't have
an address
But maybe I'm just sick
of feeling empty
and alone
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