They’ll tell you nothing tastes sweeter than life
When all they’ve tasted is defeat

If your glances were breaths,
My lungs would burst
I see you

you've worn my pages down so that i'll always open up to the same place unbidden
and that my book of 140 pages ends on page 39
everyone thinks that's how my story finishes
but in reality it's because you've ripped out the last chapters

you burned me then were surprised when you choked on my smoke

You stopped picking up the phone
And starting picking up cigars

One day I swear I’ll figure out
If I was who you were writing about

I love the feeling of your words tracing my skin
so why don’t your hands feel the same