You hate the way your face looks,
how your stomach isn't thin,
and you hate imagining a life without her-
but you have no choice in it.
Cause there used to be this magic,
in every ordinary thing,
like driving late at night,
and morning coffee trips.
But now there's something broken,
you're a liar when you smile,
all you want is a hand to hold,
to take the pain for a while.
Sometimes when you're left alone,
there's a bitter bitter dark.
The quiet scares you cause the voices
pick your mind apart.