| A garden grew between us in the love we lived without
|
| Remaining faithful to the flood, our tears have purpose in a drought
|
| Tread lightly so footprints can’t disturb the bed we’ve made
|
| With restlessness reserved for both the bodies it contains
|
| Aim your sharpest arrow at the center of my chest
|
| A memorial to signify the sense of helplessness
|
| We dare not mourn our past lives, our loss will be reborn
|
| Because I couldn’t love who you were but you’re not you anymore
|
| Sew your skeleton to mine, I’m no good on my own
|
| Stitch yourself to either side of me so I will never be alone
|
| We mend our past mistakes as a symbol that we’ve grown
|
| So we no longer place our weight on top of broken bones
|
| Mark an end to aimless roaming with a double-sided knife
|
| If we develop eyes for others, may we both be stripped of sight
|
| Liken our divide to partitions in the earth
|
| Wrapped in walls of vines, growing out of common ground
|
| A garden grew between us
|
| Our tears have purpose in a drought
|
| Sew your skeleton to mine, I’m no good on my own
|
| Stitch yourself to either side of me so I will never be alone
|
| We mend our past mistakes as a symbol that we’ve grown
|
| So we no longer place our weight on top of broken bones
|
| Mark an end to aimless roaming
|
| With a double-sided knife
|
| Taking steps towards each other
|
| We could end both our lives
|
| (And that’d be fine)
|
| Aim your sharpest arrow at the center of my chest
|
| A memorial to signify the sense of helplessness
|
| We dare not mourn our past lives, our loss will be reborn
|
| I couldn’t love who you were but you’re not you anymore |