Looking back on this, I won't be able to understand it either.
I tore up your letters and gave them to my first-graders to use in a papier mache. People did always say I was creative...
The orange butterfly wings are crumbling easily in my clammy hands and leaving pale, black marks.
To be free of the iron clasps of love. Escape the prison of emotion. Free falling apathy.
Coffee will burn to the sound of breaking guitars.
The picture of you a top the mountain overlooking the Atlantic was beautiful...It almost pained me to have had to have burned it for the voo doo ritual.
It's just allergies. You're not worth the real tears.
Chest pain is crippling.
Who else could've etched "BASTARD" in the side of your new car? It certainly wasn't me...
The incessant beeping of the phone says it all.
Ignore me, I'm a broken, rambling record of sobs...
Forever tumbled down a rocky red cliff, and you were naive enough to chase after it.
The orange butterfly wings are crumbling easily in my clammy hands and leaving pale, black marks.
To be free of the iron clasps of love. Escape the prison of emotion. Free falling apathy.
Coffee will burn to the sound of breaking guitars.
The picture of you a top the mountain overlooking the Atlantic was beautiful...It almost pained me to have had to have burned it for the voo doo ritual.
It's just allergies. You're not worth the real tears.
Chest pain is crippling.
Who else could've etched "BASTARD" in the side of your new car? It certainly wasn't me...
The incessant beeping of the phone says it all.
Ignore me, I'm a broken, rambling record of sobs...
Forever tumbled down a rocky red cliff, and you were naive enough to chase after it.