Where’s the step between comfort and apology because I think I’ve yet to find that place.
Instead I think my blood will boil before it curdles.
(Leave memories of how your skin made me feel)
Where do you turn to in the dark and who do you watch.
When your footsteps shatter the silence you left when you said you would never go.  
(But you left anyway)
How can you expect to trust a soul, if you don’t even trust your own.

And why have you gotten me stuck in the place between the two.