With my words, I cut his heart wide open,
Hoping that he would let me sew it back,
But he took the shards of crimson glass,
And swallowed them down with his pride;
[Or at least, what was left of it anyways.]
Crawling along the kitchen floor, he traced,
Following his staggering footsteps backward,
Stopping at a dead-end, he looked up at me,
Trying to find the words to dig himself out;
[I must say, I admire his talent at digging graves.]
Whiskey tears stain down his rosy cheeks,
As he cries to someone who is no longer there,
And his breath is tainted with pretty one-liners,
That he throws away like last nights news;
[But I fall for it every time, I`m such a fool.]
She smiles as he hands her another drink,
Yes, let`s all drink away our rationality,
It`s quarter to three and I`m still up waiting,
But he won`t come home, no, not tonight;
[Time`s slipping, but she`s almost out of her dress.]
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Time gets him out of his pants.
She`s sliding off her dress.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Focus. Focus.
His conscience was shot to hell, and I`ll buy that,
Pretend you don`t smell her Jenna, just pretend,
I`ll smile my best smile at him, and he`ll buy that,
Oh what a mess we`ve gone and got ourselves in;
[But I wouldn`t want to be anywhere other than here.]
He pulls my strings, I`m just some novelty puppet,
And I know he has it in him to drag me around,
I count his footsteps as he walks away from me,
Another night to sit and lose myself to the clock;
[He just went to meet some friends; ha, yeah right.]
My bags have been packed for seven months now,
They`re sitting by the door, collecting dust,
And maybe one day I`ll get the courage to leave,
But right now, I`m happy with what I get of him;
[Pull strings for the martyr in you, I know you can.]
