I go to bed alone tonight
for the first time again, it feels like.
There's no hand to hold,
no warmth to feel...
just my own.
And I dream of you,
again and again.
Every time, a bleeding, beating heart
suffocating in your hand.
Just yours alone.
The moon is black and full.
Beyond the fullness, it is whole,
and your hair is nearly as white as the sky is.
Why are we so blinded?
It is on its own.
Everything is backwards;
nothing where it should be
and air that can't breathe anything.
We're just trying not to be lonely.
But, we're really all alone.
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