I try to tend to the wreckage on my own
Because the sun is now so bright
And I hope maybe it will dry the rot and water-logged pieces
But I don’t have enough water to make new blood
The salt clings to my skin and holds on
How close to the animal body is the voice of the heart?
How close are death from dehydration and falling out of love?
Is there anything you could do that would ever be enough?
Was it your plan to **** us both,
Just to be right all along?
I wish I’d fall asleep and wake up taken
Taken from you