The table sits alone in the dining room of our home
It hasn’t been touched in ages like my emotions by ur spit of lies
that u claim are the truths-
But the truths don’t fix up the cracked edges of the wood like they don’t fix up my thoughts of you.
The table I pass everytime I run to the room where it doesn’t matter if we stay together anymore because everything would be better if you weren’t here,
the same room where your lies tied in with my nonsense had ripped open the walls and the truth caved in once you were completely gone.
The call had described such a sweet serenity
the life of happiness I onced pictured the first time we held hands,
but the realness of your words wasn’t enough to make me drop to my knees and beg you to come back
No, the realness in your words had made me realize how much I hate that table and how much I hate the thought of you