Let's stop writing about
waiting for the one
to come save us.
Let's stop writing about waiting
for someone to come make
us feel like home.
Let's find home in the comforts
of our skin.
Put the cape on your own back
and save yourself.
We were not built to live or hunt
for anyone else.
We were built to wipe our own tears.
We were built strong enough to be able
to pick ourselves up off the ground
and carry on.
With full hearts and kindness in our eyes.
My dear, you were not made for anyone
but yourself.

And maybe I should stop falling for
people with light eyes
who're born under October
skies.

Lately you've been haunting my dreams.
I see you again and you're as warm as you
were when I first met you.
Isn't it odd how our dreams only show us
what we want to remember about a person?
Because despite all the bruises and tears,
in my dreams you hold me so tight
just like you used to.
You wrap your hands in my hair
and you tell me to never leave you.
But you left me.
And I swear to god i can feel your heart beat
again,
just like how I used to count the beats of it
at 3 A.M. when you would keep me warm.
And in my dreams we do exactly that
and lately it's been so easy to sleep.

Lately I've been searching for a new home.
Ever since you left nothing feels right.
My childhood home is like a graveyard.
My favorite coffee shop is filled with ghosts.
The passenger side seat of my car
has your fingerprints all over it.
I've been searching for new things
to make me feel whole again,
since everything I used to love has
the remnants of you all over them.
For now I sit on a street corner,
homeless.
Holding a sign that reads,
"searching for something to ignite
the fire in my chest again after my home
with two arms, two legs, and a beating heart
got up and left."

For so long I have been so strong.
I can feel my armour starting to
deteriorate.
I miss you and yes, it does hurt.
These late nights have been getting so long.
I've waiting for the wrong people
to answer my texts
wishing it was you.
The thought of you being gone
forever has finally started setting in
and there is a fire in my lungs
because of it.
It's almost like I was sure you were
going to come back,
and you never did.

I knew I was playing with fire
so why was I so surprised when
I got burned?
He told me to make sure I don't fall
in love with him.
He told me he wasn't comfortable talking.
He told me he wanted to make me happy.
I had cigarette burns up and down my body
and I should've known it would hurt
because you had ones to match.
There's something about tracing over your own skin after someone's touched you.
Almost as if the traces will never disappear,
like the scars from cigarette burns.