"inside your house.
we've got a lot to talk about."
i'd much rather you put your cigarette out on my arm again than goin circles. i have the key to the front door and i'll tell your mother you broke my heart again. i'm drunk at your door. it's three in the morning. your hands are very cold on my face, it's because mine is hot since i've been crying.
this house isn't my home. just like the caved chest that carries my heart is empty now. your doorstep doesn't welcome my begging knees the same way it did before. it's been so long. how long now? you left and you still haven't come back. i shouldn't have ever loved you or looked at you. i cant love anyone else again. why did you make me like this. i wish i could scream and kick your door down and tell your mother i hate you. but it's been way too long now. it's been too long now.
i bumped into you not that long ago when it was snowing. we hadn't spoken in so long. i didn't speak to you i just saw you. i looked different and i bent my mind backwards wondering if you recognised my face when it wasn't crying. i cant believe i used to share a bed with you. when you used to smoke and make the bedroom smell bad. i cant believe i let you do that. i cant believe i didn't tell you to stop. i'm a bad person for that.
but you're the worst person by far.
you're the worst person i've ever known.
why did you make everything my fault?
