It's been a month since your fragile voice made contact with my alert ears and it almost burns as I admit I miss the way you spoke.
I could never meet your eyes-do I even remember the color of them?
And every glance at you feels like you're drawing blood from my veins when you're not even making contact with me.
Change, change, CHANGE.
It all seems so relevant, or maybe irrelevant and I just want you to be happy but not hearing your voice talking to me feels like a million needle points and I shouldn't let you get to me.
It's been a month.
Have you ****** around more after me before the word "change" hit your tongue?
Or was I just another nothing of a female body to fuel your addiction that actually made you realize that change is all you got?
Seventeen years doesn't get you far, now does it.
But karma, that's going to get you.
You're nothing, 'cause you told us we were something (what a lie!) and it's going to loop back around.
But I miss your fragile voice making contact with my alert ears.