The wetness of the clouds and the coldness of the air became a beautiful distraction. The loneliness echoed while my heart poured out for you.
I'm sweetly broken, torn between two ideas of what I deserve.
It's harder not to let you right back in, and I don't want to feel a thing anymore. The rhythm of the beats that pump through these blue and purple confused veins, not sure what to let my heart feel, they bust and break at the sharp sound of the words you say. My heart, it cracks, the gentle strokes of my flesh against the walls of my soul cause this flinch of hatred, for the years you've given me a reason to quit, you made me quite apathetic. And babe, there ain't nothing poetic about that. Please, won't you push me for the last time.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 12:32 PM UTC
The wetness of the clouds and the coldness of the air became a beautiful distraction. The loneliness echoed while my heart poured out for you.
I'm sweetly broken, torn between two ideas of what I deserve.
It's harder not to let you right back in, and I don't want to feel a thing anymore. The rhythm of the beats that pump through these blue and purple confused veins, not sure what to let my heart feel, they bust and break at the sharp sound of the words you say. My heart, it cracks, the gentle strokes of my flesh against the walls of my soul cause this flinch of hatred, for the years you've given me a reason to quit, you made me quite apathetic. And babe, there ain't nothing poetic about that. Please, won't you push me for the last time.