a tattered couch for emphasis
yellowed photograph in hand
memories of a time
as a younger man
had himself a family
beautiful wife to hold his hand
but along with it all
came along life's demands

back then he called it providing
the years that he went missing
to himself he was lying
though he kept insisting
absent husband, absent father
would seldom make it home
when he finally did
he found himself alone

the children never knew
the dad who said he loved them
hard to see it any other way
missing father, missing husband
with them no longer here
and he no longer able
to hold back the tears
but now able to say so

to a yellowed-out photograph
sadly in an empty room
if only he had known
what his fortune would lose

Bright appearance
Blue eyes
All those little lies

Treating me like nothing
Sometimes there
Acting like you care

Maybe you do
I know you’re not here anymore
And with that let me say
I no longer mourn

Bent double.
Sick.
And I cannot really blame you.
Maybe it was me.
Because I wrote so much about avoiding the devil, but little did I know I was sharing his bed.

I'm afraid
to look at you
because maybe
you'll be looking back
and I'll be reminded of the
ways my heart learned to love
the person you pretended to be

i fear that the beauty you see in me
will fade
as soon as you see me undressed
i fear that our forever
won’t be as long as you promised
once you get a taste of my lips
and i blame myself
for not being enough for you
when in reality
i am full
and you are empty
you try and empty me
in order
to fill yourself
i beg you
please
don’t empty me

forgive me
but i still think of him
while you hold me