|Photo provided by Tess Kincaid|
Twisted emotions flow down my spine
Sometimes I am just fine, sometimes
I pray for numbness.
How old was I the last time you held my hand
Did I let you hold it or did my independent nature
Yank it back from you.
Will I survive not talking with you
And you not answering me back?
This mourning sucks and I see no way clear of it
At least not anytime soon.
I am clearing your room and I want to paint it
Make it pretty and put you right back in it.
All I can do is paint it but it will never be pretty
Without you in it.