All I have is showers and coffee and writing. And sometimes I’m sure I can’t even write anymore. And sometimes the water doesn’t get hot enough. And I can’t make the coffee taste right lately. So what is there left for me?
failing and flailing thru this life grasping for your hand but i can’t find it in the dark even though it is clearly right in front of me and you’re waiting and waiting for me to interlace my fingers with yours so that you can keep my head above water for me because it seems that you don’t want me to drown afterall perhaps because you still want to put me back together but how can you even do that when you don’t know where i’ve hidden all the glass and bloody words that used to be my heart you’re collecting them all in a pretty vase but i can never be whole again because somethings will forever be lost some girls will forever be broken and shredded