and i bet you'll leave again
and not call me
at 2 am
crying anymore
begging me, telling me
every reason
that you need me
to even breathe

and i bet you'll walk away
with tight lips
kept shut
refusing to speak
of what went wrong with me

and i'll dwell
with old songs
stuck on rewind
and memories
stabbing
through my skull
and setting my body
on fire
and i'll be too frail
to gather the strength
to skip a song
we used to call our own

and my pillows will be stained black
and smeared red
from washed mascara
when my mother
tries to ask me
what's wrong
and dried blood
from when i scratch
my skin raw
in my sleep
filled of dreams
of what once was
a reality with you

a.n.