I was babbling to the heavy ground of my room,
As it was somehow nicer to me than your heart.
The eyes of the lover that cried overnight and,
The heart don't even know, how to pick up the parts you throw.
Oh! The broken pieces of mirror on bathroom tiles,
The mirror you broke into the chunks, are whimpering, I don't know.
Then the morning came, and the memories too.
Oh! The squeaking sound of the closing door, and my beseeching you to stay,
Yeah the memories came, just the memories.
~vive_in_te










