It was the timing and the bags under my eyes. It was the look on your face when you said I look tired. I'd rather watch you turn away, because you don't look at me the same anymore, and I don't blame you for a second. What happened to us? What happened to me?
I used to run to feel the air rushing through my lungs, without a purpose or need or a care and a back to the sun. Now it's just a getaway in a maze that I can't escape.
Oh, how I would give anything for a chance to catch my breath. I would give anything for you to speak in words I understand.
And now my feet are sinking into my regrets like concrete.
If we're made in his reflection, I'm curious.
Oh, I would give anything to recreate how our dysfunction used to function so beautifully.
So if we're made in his reflection, I'm curious, is this all there is? Just failing expectations, crumbling foundations, nothing more, nothing less. And the burn in the back of your throat, it never goes away. You just come to grips, and make room for it until you don't live, you just cope. And as much as we say, "don't look back," we always do because we're human. God knows I'm human. I'm a liar and I am a fake. I am I, and I wish I wasn't.
I keep trying to fight and trying to run, but I hate myself for changing every step of the way. I can't help thinking that if we're made in his reflection, I'm curious, did God drink himself to sleep the night he created me?
all rights reserved