I know how it gets caught in my hair
And fills the air with fruit.
- I chew on salt now,
This is my style of healing,
A wince and a burn
And a smile you never see anymore.
I was convinced
We were real
But I lied to myself at some point
At some point,
I must have lied.
If they knew, they could hate you too,
For once, it has no colour
It lies beside me as I sigh mistakes into
Its broken face
And you,
I hope you can leave now.
After all,
The aching that won't fade
I designed this for you.
