In a way I
Want to let you go.

I will build a headstone
With the salt from the tears
I've cried.

I've flowered enough blood
To give you as many bouquets as you like

You've given me plenty,
So I'd like to give some back.

Gratitude is making me teary
Or is that the knowledge of the nothing

That will follow all this muchness?

This is a weak kind of mourning.
I will never see you again.
Please, stupid girl, believe it.

Oh...

That is it.
You are gone.

Breathing, you walk out the door,

Dead to me.