We haven't talked in weeks

Which doesn't mean we're broken up, because you have to be going out with somebody
Before they can break up with you, but I still have the taste of your lips on mine
So what does that mean?

3 weeks ago, when I began this hiatus incommunicado
I told myself I would talk to you again when it wouldn't be about making myself bleed
And I waited for my scars to fade enough to hold a ****** normal conversation

I’m still waiting

I once told you how bad I can make myself
How I can get trapped in that train of thought that leads to razors and scars
I was shaking because I was so far into it
Losing feeling, warmth, and control over my limbs far too rapidly
I always get cold when it hurts like this

I'm so cold I can see my breath on an 80 degree perfect day
But I refuse to find warmth in other people again

See I do this thing, and I know I do
Where I find somebody with such good inside them
Find somebody whose soul is somehow just so ******* beautiful
And then I destroy that

Don't believe me?

Look at each of my ex-boyfriends and my far-too-close friends
Observe that haunted look in their eyes
I've ruined them

You don't see it but you are so good
And I refuse to destroy that

I'm ****** up
There are days when each breath feels like a car crash
Which is ironic because the last time I was in a car crash
I couldn't really breathe for a week

I am crushed metal and crushed lungs
And you should know enough to run
So we haven't talked in weeks

Let’s hope it lasts