Heavy heart and ripped jeans
Even the idea of you makes it hard to breathe
Broken glass bottles and truck beds
Numb is the only synonym for your name
Balanced on late nights and shaking hands
The contents of her drinking soaking into the carpet
Only my anger seems to be as intense as her’s
But never directed at anyone in specific
Her’s seems to only surface around me
And hell
I know I can’t seem to ever pick the right thing to say
For some reason
When it comes to her
Her hands
Her laugh
Her smile
Her voice
Her empty promises
Her mumbled words
Her shattered glass
I’m desperate to be able to solve the puzzle