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Meg Howell Nov 2017
Is this an outer-body experience
Or a pretentious subsistence
Like a dog barking at my built up wall
Forming a pattern of cautious consistence

I've never broken a heart but
I've broken every plan I've chosen to mess with
I'm slowly downing this regret and distrust
Like it's freshly poured absinth

The sickness comes right away,
Which I oddly knew to begin with
I say that I'll change someday,
But I think I'll probably stay this way

After all, I'm happy
When the salt isn't in my wounds
After all, I'm happy
When I'm sitting here with you

— The End —