it's a wonder we are still surviving,
writing and re-living:
past memories and guilt,
pent-up lust and miserable deceit

sometimes i think,
you were the lucky one

you told me you had lost your muse,
the first night we had met,
i glanced over and blushed into
the overhead lights,
i wasn't about to volunteer
my own self
but i secretly knew

i could be her

maybe i should have been better,
you always said it was a competition,
and i was never in first place,
no matter how many times you came back
to kiss me, and you always kissed me well
well, this is all i have left
all i have left to show for this self-doubt
a morning hangover, and your side
is empty

i'm always cold,
with(out) you here

"you're confused,
isn't that why you're here?"
he speaks in quiet tongues,
always so gentle,
but sincerity lacking
i don't want to talk about the
things that brought us here
the things that have broken us
down... in the quiet,
and in the dark,
it was always the same


i'm here because
i want to be held*

it's as simple as that
i have no other explanation
for the way things are,
or should be,
or could have been