im too cowardly that way
i wasnt sure when the secrets would stop getting between us
so i got rid of you instead of them
held myself through the shattered pieces
secrets
late nights
the times i didn't call or write
there are stories there i have tried hard to forget
unluckily i remember
the stories are tattooed somewhere sacred and hidden
they are permanent
pregnant
give birth every time i give them enough attention to surface
these are the ingredients i need to hate myself
not that you still need any reason
if its any consolation,
im sorry for the way my deterioration cracked you
and in case you were still wondering, the love
that wasnt a lie
it was the truest thing i knew
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