I was never anything but flammable material I kept you warm but I burned myself out Every week I tell my therapist about you How things have changed How I have a new man every night How I rarely learn their names and they never call me back How I'm nothing but empty anymore And you judge me for healing wrong As if what I'm doing is any worse than five weeks of self pity As if your feelings will always continue to trump mine As if you still have some say in what I do As if you're still holding the matches But I'm learning to speak for myself I've learned how to moan three different names in less than two days And how to make none of them sound even remotely like yours I'm moving on and it kills you, I know But you only liked the dancing fire and the warmth You never could stand the smell of smoke.