i don't know why is it hard to breathe clearly, these days
or even just to cry, to cry
my chest still burns from the night you left,
but what good is it anyway?
we're never anything, anyway.
the word you said, how you miss me
and how you miss the way
i hold you tight in my arms,
before a departure that we both never wanted.
"we used to talk about the future together
and now it's here,
and you aren't."
most of these lonely nights,
i think about your long brown hair, a lot
or how your eyes disappear when you laugh.
memories is a serial-killer,
they hunt you down late at night
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