Broken down.
In need of matinence.
I think I need help on this one.
Because I keep lifting my feet and putting thrm into potholes.
I already told myself I'd get over you.
But you linger in every room of this apartment.
Your smell.
Things you left.
Momentos from off away from me.
And I'll always remember your voice when you said it.
It's my fault.
I know it is.
And I broke it all up.
Like shredding tissues.
Fissures.
Cracks.
A fault in the middle of my heart.
And I keep telling myself to move.
And my body keeps on rebelling.
Help me out.
Just take my hand one last time and tell me what we had was good.
We had a good run.
My time wasn't wasted.
And for all that I found in it...
I'm happy in my sadness.
No more razors.
Not too many pills.
I can survive now.
But I'm stepping in these potholes and I just keep tripping.
You were the rose I stopped to smell...

I gotta move on now.