I picked up all of the pieces
Of punched out mirror from the depths of sinks left
Between you and the death of the author
It seems they only come around whenever they want to
Oh my god the ink's run dry
I'm ripping out all of the pages where I put down
The things I'm supposed to
Thumb poked holes in our flaws
And pages used for masking how
How I
I'm never gonna be a me you actually want
And never get to say the last goodbye
They lowered your coffin and I wasn't there
I ached in your rib cage
I choked on your hair
All night
I never got to sleep
A phantom under sheets
I wish you could've been to wake me up
The hardest thing I've ever said out loud
Is I can't give you what you wanted
So monitor your breadcrumb trails
Before the birds deplete them
Or stand back far enough to watch it fall apart
Stand back far enough to watch it all back