no one wants you when you're dying. i made friends with the moon so that i would never feel that 3 in the morning loneliness again. you are the only thing i love that doesn't hurt me. sometimes i wonder if you laugh when you leave me because you know that if love were a game, you would be winning. i feel like i'm on a plane about to crash, but i don't care because you're holding my hand. once upon a time you held me tight enough to leave bruises and now that you're gone, they're all i have left. i pace the upstairs of my house for 33 minutes like i'm looking for something that i lost, and in a sense i am. when i talk to you, i ask myself "what's the point" and i've been searching for an answer since before i can remember. you paint pictures onto the parts of my walls that are cracked and bruised. you're making it beautiful as you tear it down. i am a forest fire and you are a rainstorm, and i want you to put me out.
you're my home but you keep leaving.