I watered the roses in your garden and gave them the life you and I both wish we had. The sun shined bright that morning and I swear I saw it pierce a hole in my skin. You could see right through my hand and I could see right through your eyes, we both lied to make ourselves feel alive.

I saw a bird break its wing and fall to the ground it reminded me of the time I broke my arm. The thought of breaking my bone gave me a rush and made me think of the time we broke this love we so willingly give away. This pain cuts deep and so does pretending I'm still alive, but the sun isn't gray so until that time maybe I'll find a way to get by.

There is a fire in my stomach that doesn't tend to leave, it sparks and burns and whines while I grieve. The roses in your garden died and so did my insides. I guess this is what being hollow feels like.

This grief adds weight to the pain I hold, at some point in my life I have to stop trying to be so bold and take a hold of my life. The sun doesn't seem to shine so bright anymore, the hope I lack came back and tied a rope around my neck, so now I'll let my weight do its fait and set me free.