Aching butterfiles always took over my stomach at the same spot. im heading to you. you know i am, and you are excited for far diffrent reasons. you selfish ache for skin on skin was always apparent, and i would brush it off for love.
random messes skattered the floor, comforting in a strange way, you would leave it to stay for another while, as if the pieces of your broken home could never be mended.
you told me that this was the end of your line, well, dear previous one, its never over. this will continue to hurt, and will be never ending untill you stop pretending.
I too know the pain of a broken, shattered home. And I too know the comfort you take in feeling loved for one night, and rolling over to an empty bed, and even more empty feeling in the morning.
The night seems to rob us all of our dignity, and the morning shames and painful reflections in the mirror are so unforgiving.
You continue on with your misleading life, and tell me what its like to fill the gap of loneliness with a diffrent face every night.
Stay at home and wait for the music to inspire you to lead a diffrent life.
But you always play the same tunes.