How ironic it all seems because I remember you

telling me

about other lovers running out of words to say to each other

and how beautiful you thought it was and I agreed that

would never happen to you and me

so here we sit in silence, searching our heads for common ground

we've rehashed the past and beaten it down

left us with nothing, no present, no future

I still read your letter and all that evil makes me sick

But this is regimented pain and it gives me the illusion

that I have lived

I was the one that pushed you off the pedestal I put you on

And with my arms still outstretched I watched you fall

And break apart like glass on the highway

I realized my mistake a bit too late because I'd never risk

picking up the pieces,

look at them all

I'd never risk picking up all those goddamn pieces

because I lose control at the site of my own blood

I still read your letter, and all that bullshit makes me sick

But this is regimented pain and it gives me the illusion that I have lived