When my carpet holds more comfort than my bed.
When a strangers tongue tastes better than your heart.
When apathy relates more than depression.
Like my own, personal Hell.
The repetition of your last words:
The lack of subtlety,
As if you hadn't known me,
As if you hadn't felt a thing;
But your forgetting something:
If my memories are correct, (they are)
You told me you loved me daily,
You held me tight enough to constrict my breathing upon my departure,
And fell apart learning of my mistakes.
No lies, Dear, I know you well enough to know you haven't forgotten.