Once I loved a man
who crushed my words between his
fingers.
I never told him that I cried for three weeks straight,
and that to this day
I still can't say his name.
It was the first time I truly felt the pain of empty sentences.
It was the first time I ever wanted to see my pulse from the inside.

Once I loved a man
that chose his ****** over reason.
Said the world was too bitter
and he was always afraid.
I dropped a dime inside his mind,
but it only sank the boat.
He still sleeps inside my walls.
Today I thought I saw his corpse sitting in my bath tub,
but I think this time it's just the oxy kicking in.
I keep a blood stained shirt inside my pillow case,
and I don't know if it's good or bad
that the blood isn't mine,
or if it's just embarrassing to say
I will never stop loving him.

I loved a man that never hurt me,
but still I ended up in shards beneath the ocean.
He doesn't know about the mess I made upon my sheets,
because I couldn't shake the feeling
of his footsteps on my veins,
and I couldn't bare
to lift my head above the water.