Cry baby bleeding heart
Ruin everything you touch
Wet with tears, wet with blood
Hold too tight, **** it up
Deep red handprints on white sheets
Killing what you try to keep

There’s a hole where you were
And I still remember
There’s this violent, persistent gnaw in my chest
There’s this hole in the center where I grew around you
With part of me missing, how could I forget?
So I will always wake up frantic, searching for the ghost of you
Following breadcrumbs long gone stale
Sometimes I find some old lost piece of you
But it’s always a dead end, never a trail
And I wonder where you are now, I wonder how you’ve been?
Did I leave a hole in you? Could you ever fill it in?

Have you stopped writing?

The streets we used to walk are forgetting the sound of our footsteps
The soles of our feet forget the heat of the pavement
Barefoot Arizona summer

Our hearts forget the sugar high pace,
The remaining memories lose their clarity
All childhood games end eventually

I think magic only exists when you’re young
I think we lost it somewhere along the way

I wish I could remember
I’d give anything to relive those days

I am heavy with the sopping weight of dead dreams
I am wet with the blood of my childhood
I am on a warpath through this emptiness
I swear to god I’ll feel alive again

I am 22 years old with 23 snatching at my ankles
And I have fought for every scrap of independence I can get my hands on
I retire to my bed at night, in a new home but still not my own
Sweating out the heat and trying to be grateful for where I am
But the screaming piece of starlight that still lives in my chest always weeps
Where is my kingdom?
Where is my castle?

I grew up so much on your bedroom floor
With our backs to the carpet, we’d lay there and listen to Muse and talk about *******.
Nothing matters when you’re 11 years old, it’s just cartoons and sugar and whatever darkness grows behind closed doors, but those doors are closed
And I thought I kept my shadows out in the hallway where they couldn’t catch us playing make believe in your pool.
I thought it’s too bright outside for dark things
And we were far too fast on our bikes,
And it was far too high when we’d hike
And the Arizona summers would protect us.
I guess the dark things got in when we’d sleep,
Maybe you could smell the cold on me,
Something slipped in through the cracks and ****** things over.
I miss sleeping in your basement, I miss living in your back pocket, and I miss thinking of your name without trying not to cry.
You are so ingrained in me, but you want nothing to do with me, and that place can never exist for us again.
It’s a terrible thing to wrap my head around.
We could be laughing in your kitchen with some horrible concoction that’ll keep us up to watch the sunrise again,
But I’m just left to wonder where you’ve been.
I know you’re smart, I hope you’re happy, I hope you have a new best friend,
I hope they grow with you and learn from you, and I hope you do with them.
I hope you think of me, but not too much, I think dwelling would be sad.
I hope you forgive whatever I did wrong and look back fondly on what we had.

When I was a kid, I used to pick myself to pieces trying to find the part that was wrong.
I guess I thought it’d stop at some point, but I find myself reflecting on every little thing I’ve ever done,
tracing back the footsteps to where I lost you.
I guess it has to be me, but it’s the same elementary game,
Molding myself to meet your needs until I don’t know where you end and I begin,
So when you leave you take a part of me.
I will try to fill the space with whatever I was missing and I will play this game again with some new player who won’t tell me the rules.