25th is his birthday, and that's all I remember
No christmas or the end of December.
Took me a few years to make me realise
Every piece of love from him was a lie.
It was almost an excuse to get a body he liked
And after so many years when I knew I cried
In a bathroom locked with a diary and a pen
Until it fucking happened again.
Again I was there, this time in a rush
To go home as a little late I was.
And I felt the unfamiliar familiarity on me
I swear what kept brushing wasn't his knee.
And today on his birthday I finally know
That it's his touch I have to learn to let go.
Although the pain strikes right across
And stains my body like a shirt on lip gloss
And the shirt can never be worn again
But it's my skin. I feel like it's cracked open.
It's an open invitation for men like him
To seek a little something and rip it out from within
And enjoy me all the while I keep so quiet
And they taste me in everything they desired
And I'll lay on the floor with cold hair and hands
As if waiting forever for the next command
And no one can ever take me as I was
Because she was lost at the dawn of my flaws
And even if I wanted to give my all
I have nothing but stained skin to fall.
Helpless and torn it sometimes feels
Like a shawl which keeps tearing letting the cold wind in.
And I sit there as I almost forget his name,
Till I realise I'm just a pawn in his game.
