heaven restores you in life

i'm heavy-headed, like a paper fish boiling in 1600 tons of concrete. the swell of our pus-filled lungs are all i have left, and you're drunk: it's 4am, guess where i am?

it's been months since you've been the object of my hands, i don't like how this feels. i don't like writing about you. but here i am, black ripped tights, deja vu, heavy eyes, thin lips. when you met me, i still wore glasses. and when you fell in love with me, i had smashed them in half. and by the time i had left you, i was blind. i never got them replaced. i'm still blind.

all these things i can't forget; the way you write the number one, and 9 pm, i could have filled the plane with my tears and drowned the man beside me, but i didn't because i was too embarrassed to show the world how much i loved you in such close quarters. and every song i played reminded me of the way we had to walk away, if you followed me the police would have taken you, and if i turned and ran back nothing except the practical would have happened. i should have run. instead, i ran too late and in the wrong direction. and every mistake brings me further from the truth. moi non plus.

the way your nose used to fill with black drove me insane, and i was always at it like a tongue to a sore tooth, but i would give my house to get it back. don't forget what i forgot to tell you, please. i'm still worried, i'm still a burden, i'm still confused, i don't think i'll ever stop crumbling in your hands. i wasn't looking for you, but i found you, isn't that how it always works? it's easy to love you now, i promise. at the very same rate, i don't expect you to believe that after all i have done. are you still lonely? me too, but my hands are still red. je pense a toi...