I’m sorry
if I
look 
empty,
I only
know 
how to
give 
everything
I have.

we’d [l]eave before the sun,
I’d take y[o]u gently by the hand—
ne[v]er lost, but always wandering,
drifting through lik[e] grains of sand—

The pen inside your mouth writes
words of [love], and of despair—
It glides along so gently,
with its ink that is the air—

But now your words are fading,
and they drift away from here—
I wonder if they’ll reach me
[right] before they disappear—

your eyes, they stared and asked me
what was going through my head—
(dear don’t fret, please let them rest)
some things are better left unsaid.

/
there’s no strength inside my bones—
but there’s no weakness in these tears.
your breathing may be soft—
but it still stifles all my fears.
/

I’ve realized why my veins are blue,
I’ve known it for a while too.
All the blood that’s left my heart
is now returning, missing you.

these lungs
may be 
breathing,
but I 
still think
I’m deprived.
just because
this heart 
is beating
doesn’t mean
that I’m
alive.

I was
left
at the
seashore
of your
eyes, 
where
your
breaths
became 
the waves.

only
your
heartstrings
keep me
from drowning
in your
lungs.

sometimes
your smile
spoke
more
than
words ever
could.