I feel your arms around me, but turn and you’re gone
I feel your breath on my neck, soon replaced with the cold draught
I see the scratches on your back but open my eyes and see the bruises on mine
They’re matched with the scratch running up my side from the night I made you mad
Your face burned red and your hand was raised as I cowered and feared and cried
He said things that broke me but now my mascara is too expensive to be ruined by his harsh words
I told them I was broken but they passed it off as a bad day and all they could say was
“you’re okay”
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 2:07 PM UTC
I feel your arms around me, but turn and you’re gone
I feel your breath on my neck, soon replaced with the cold draught
I see the scratches on your back but open my eyes and see the bruises on mine
They’re matched with the scratch running up my side from the night I made you mad
Your face burned red and your hand was raised as I cowered and feared and cried
He said things that broke me but now my mascara is too expensive to be ruined by his harsh words
I told them I was broken but they passed it off as a bad day and all they could say was
“you’re okay”