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Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

The clock doesn't strike anymore.
You used to call round, and we'd lie awake, listening -

but now there is only silence/

thought

memory

ice in the cold of my veins and red running over yours

you bled out

leaving me

to freeze.

It's not about you coming, or going, or leaving in the way that you did;

your arms wrapped tight around yourself, the only one you ever loved

or about her, and the way she taught you to drip ink

to feed an obsession we had only ever heard of.

Perhaps it is a little about me, and you.

Was there ever really a me, and you?

You wore your hair long, then

and every smile was a revalation

every hand in mine a song in my heart

but you faded, turned to ashes, and crumbled under all my expectations.

Was it me who drove you to it?

Was it my hand on the blade, my words in your ear?

Am I the one to blame?

Only you could answer, and dead men tell no tales,

old girlfriends tell no lies

old heartache never mends.

The clock doesn't strike anymore.

You used to call round, and we'd lie awake, listening -

you'd whisper in my ear and I would laugh

smile

hold you

warmth in my soul and love in your eyes

you have left

and what's left

is me.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

The clock doesn't strike anymore.
You used to call round, and we'd lie awake, listening -

but now there is only silence/

thought

memory

ice in the cold of my veins and red running over yours

you bled out

leaving me

to freeze.

It's not about you coming, or going, or leaving in the way that you did;

your arms wrapped tight around yourself, the only one you ever loved

or about her, and the way she taught you to drip ink

to feed an obsession we had only ever heard of.

Perhaps it is a little about me, and you.

Was there ever really a me, and you?

You wore your hair long, then

and every smile was a revalation

every hand in mine a song in my heart

but you faded, turned to ashes, and crumbled under all my expectations.

Was it me who drove you to it?

Was it my hand on the blade, my words in your ear?

Am I the one to blame?

Only you could answer, and dead men tell no tales,

old girlfriends tell no lies

old heartache never mends.

The clock doesn't strike anymore.

You used to call round, and we'd lie awake, listening -

you'd whisper in my ear and I would laugh

smile

hold you

warmth in my soul and love in your eyes

you have left

and what's left

is me.