Sometimes I wonder about all the love I've thrown away
And all that I've been given
If it was even love to begin with
Wondering if it's a waste, all of it
Or maybe just bits and pieces
like the discarded box after unwrapping a gift
Or the cloth that hangs from a well worn shirt
What if I have no more love than when I started
When was the last time I had to think so hard about it
Left in between pages of a book about sloppy mistakes
I'm clutching my chest at 1 in the morning, hoping to understand why it aches
Is it the stress of knowing, or the stress of not.
I wonder if I'm ever going to make sense of everything
Or some things are better left buried under all that refuse
Not sleeping over a what if, or a just because
I continue to prove myself right, about every doubt in someone I've ever had
Will you open your heart? Or drag them into your pit to watch them fall?
Fall for something fake, something cheap
Or will you leave them hanging by a needle's threat?
Waiting for the day they finally let go
