i know you're outside my door,

waiting for someone,

you probably adore.

but these walls are too pretty,

and i can finally feel the floor.

i know that you care,

yet i dont know anything anymore.

all I have is behind that door.

it's hard to keep looking forward.

it's hard to write and not feel stupid,

it's hard to open up and not refuse it.

but I love you and I'm sorry;

for missing all your favorite holidays.