I miss that jolt in my heart
and butterflies fluttering in my stomach
feels I used to get when I was with you
Now it's just
sting in my heart
and bees buzzing in my stomach
everytime I see you

I said {I’m trying}
but i don’t believe it
cause I feel {I’m done}
in my stomach

I hate it every time the feelings find you
before your words
And then, after two years, one minute or five hours
or whenever they bother showing up,
it's like your heart and your stomach just sitting there
saying "we told you so"
and you hate them for speaking so clearly
whilst you refused to

I don't write like I used to -
using excuses, like
"These are the times you write about" -
but it doesn't come, the pen has dried
the thoughts have drifted out to sea
out to pasture - off to sleep for eternity -
I don't taste food much these days,
I usually push it past my tongue deep into
my stomach like fodder into a furnace, crackling flames
boiling my voice box, wooden bones, I don't have much to say
Too much I feel lost, wasted space in a crowded room
I don't call you in this cold war, and the phone won't ring
I don't call you in this cold war, and the phone won't ring.

Symphony No. 2
in D major 4th Movement
this is my stomach

This wasn't the first time
But it will be the last time
I create an identifiable pain
To numb the persisting wounds,
That I let my hollow stomach
Swallow all of my sorrows,
That I go to bed hungry
Struggle to wake up again,
Just to Pace around my kitchen
Afraid to open the refrigerator,
I promise this is the last time,
It's always the last time,
Please let this be the last time..