|Time Won't Let Me Go|
Sympathy PainsSometimes I wish I could tuck all your pain somewhere deep inside myself. I find that there is no place wide enough and I am as shallow as the rain and the concrete it falls into and my chest is shrinking smaller every second. Each time you call me saying that you drowned yourself in whiskey again I have a little less to give you. Every time you lie and say that the razor slipped from your face and your arms are pouring crimson I grow paler. The circles under my eyes darken alongside your translucent skin stained by the blood you haphazardly spilled. You talk about love and truth and beauty as if they're something you will die to get. It scares me. I've learned thatSympathy Pains by also-frightened
beauty are not what you think.
Love is suffering from sympathy pains
and truth and beauty are not as synonymous as they once seemed. You are truth when you wake up. Your hair is bird's nest ugly and the shirt you wore yesterday has left wrinkle imprints on your arms. You smell like orange rinds and cigare