The scent of your hair isn't the one I want
Clinging to my fingertips as I lie in bed
The fog on all six windows is there because of
Your heart and my hands,
But the rest of me is missing.
I left it with someone else, somewhere else
Barely visible walls and a low off white ceiling.
I'd like to say I'm thinking with my head
And not my heart,
But neither is true when it comes to you.
It's that one part of me,
Selfish and cruel,
That I never wanted to be
That I want no one to see