Walking home under street lit lamps
my bitter lips told you to go back.
Anger burning in my eyes you could read
that I didn't want you near me.
Your toothbrush next to mine and
a drawer to call your own.
Sharing the same bed,
with nothing but naked skin and heavy breathing.
I thought love was supposed to be a constant variable in life
but I close my eyes and it's not you that I crave.
I am laced with guilt for not feeling the same,
I want those butterflies I got from kissing you
the first day you came.
You know every curve to my body,
you know how to touch me in the perfect way
and my skin does want you at times
but I still feel vacant.