i wrote a poem about you
the boy with the darkest shades of blue
i locked it up in a box
next to my summer socks
when you next ring
i'll not say a thing
a bubble will burst
but it will pour from a hearse

Hey, cutie, it's been a while.
I listened, again, to those old voicemails you left.
I guess I'm still kinda in denial.
I just wish our secrets were better kept.
It's been six months since my tears flowed like the Nile.
Six months without you due to theft.
Of the secrets best held inside my heart,
this is by far the most important one:
I love you, Mark Schmidt. Even through this part.
This game being played can never be won,
for they think you didn't love me from the start.
But the truth is you always did through our the run
and the leap
and the fall
in too deep
to hear the call
of prayers before sleep
and I know through it all
I'll love you still.
I love you, Mark Schmidt.
I always will.
I knew since the day and still do, that piece you gave was the only one that could fit.

I don't even want to try
But I keep hoping and wishing
That someone, somewhere
Can somehow, sometime fill this void.

It won't be you, I know.
For you just make the emptiness
More hollow and more painful
Now I know better than to wait for nothing.

If all this is nothing to you
Then you are nothing to me.
I'll get a grip on myself
And let the emptiness be.