• It's his wounds that will never heal,
    it's his cracked lips that make deals,
    and I'll laugh.

    All of this time meant nothing,
    not one single day or month or
    year and the little notes you hung
    on my locker last August were
    pathetic reminders of how far
    we had fallen.

    And all of these actions meant nothing.
    Not one single breath caught in my
    throat, it was your hands, your hands
    around it.

    Those whispers in my ear at midnight,
    "Oh baby, this is all for you, please
    don't cry." And I'd bury my
    face into your jacket so you'd never
    see I didn't believe you when Alex gave
    you 'prescriptions.'

    The last day I saw you, your eyes were
    wide and glossy.
    "Oh baby, please don't cry."
    And I turned away because I wasn't
    even crying. I could let you pretend if
    you wanted.

    I lay on the bed you never used and
    thought about how it wasn't all for me,
    and how when I buried my face into
    your jacket you thought about the
    needle,
    or when I told you I was in love
    all you wanted was that
    needle,
    and when my dad left and I wanted
    you to comfort me, you
    were spacing out thinking about that
    damn needle.
    That salvation.
    That hunger.

    Well that's the end
    of it all, isn’t it?
    So understand,
    "Oh baby, I'm gonna cry now.
    It's been so long since you were sane.
    Well I'm through baby, I'm through.
    Just remember, I'm doing all of this
    for you."