Met you in my room, with the sheets up around my eyes
Why does this music still make me feel sick. It’s when I imagine your hands and the frown on the face I know so well. It’s in the beginning, somewhere, the tight feeling I get in my chest belongs to that. I am a puppet to an emotion that isn’t even valid anymore. But when the sun comes up and I still can’t seem to distinguish between something sweet and something destructive, I just give up. It seems it’s going to stick around for a bit longer. Maybe I should give it a name.