I think I’ve forgotten the sound of your voice…
Well, at least when it’s saying my name.
Last night,
I dreamed myself back in New York City
and woke this morning smelling like
Thompson Street after it rains.
I woke up drenched in the scent of us making love.
Baby, would you believe me if I said,
I think I’ve forgotten how to love?
Well, at least when it’s someone whose not you.
I give myself away so easily now
because I expect everyone to let me go.
Please don’t think I’m blaming you for this-
I know some things can’t be helped.
I’m not saying I want us back…
my mouth is still an open wound
and I wear my blood for lipstick.
Not all “I miss you’s”
mean come home…
Sometimes they’re asking
“why’d you leave to begin with?”