we have matching holes through our skin,
a tangible sign that I'd let you in.
your blood's on my floor
and I'm at the door,
and you're still waiting for something more.

I've apologized a thousand times
without a real reason why.

the last time was the first time
that it didn't hurt to say goodbye.
but it doesn't feel right,
I'm waiting for affliction,
assurance that this isn't fiction.

you thought I'd forget what forever meant.