Every word has always been about you
And now my poetry has lost it's subject.
But you cannot be completely gone,
My head knows, but my heart only objects.
Cause I'm still writing, and you're still breathing,
You just aren't breathing close to me.
I used to write with solid lines,
Now the rhymes don't come so quick.
My meanings once were more defined,
And now these words just make me sick.