if you've ever been heartbroken or
any kind of broken over the small things
the things people tell you in their car
or on the couch, or the words they speak
in their silence when they listen, in the dim lights of
the city when you say nothing
and hurt over what has been said
because it's like somehow,
some way, everything in your life manages to
become a soppy convoluted bucket mess
and your happiness ebbs away in thick drumbeats
so it's all you can do to play with your hair
wait till he drops you off,
although you won't cry, you don't know where to cry
the solitary atmosphere of your room is too familiar
you're starting to associate the lack of comfort with
an empty space, to a drop or two of salt
after the door closes you'll sit and wonder
what to do,
what to do
you don't know what to do.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 2:30 AM UTC
if you've ever been heartbroken or
any kind of broken over the small things
the things people tell you in their car
or on the couch, or the words they speak
in their silence when they listen, in the dim lights of
the city when you say nothing
and hurt over what has been said
because it's like somehow,
some way, everything in your life manages to
become a soppy convoluted bucket mess
and your happiness ebbs away in thick drumbeats
so it's all you can do to play with your hair
wait till he drops you off,
although you won't cry, you don't know where to cry
the solitary atmosphere of your room is too familiar
you're starting to associate the lack of comfort with
an empty space, to a drop or two of salt
after the door closes you'll sit and wonder
what to do,
what to do
you don't know what to do.
(c) Brooke Otto
