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Description
It was a little over a month and a half ago
when you told me you don't love me
anymore
on the phone
and winter hadn't sat on the mountains yet.
But now I can see my breath
when I'm outside on the street
and the shops are turning off their lights
and I still wanna burn
that phone.
I want to feel my knuckles crack
on the face of every person, every friend,
who tells me
"It'll get better."
"There'll be others."
"You're young."
I want to hit them
and you
and me.
Because I think they are probably right
and that makes the whole thing
seem even more goddamn stupid.

Description
It was a little over a month and a half ago
when you told me you don't love me
anymore
on the phone
and winter hadn't sat on the mountains yet.
But now I can see my breath
when I'm outside on the street
and the shops are turning off their lights
and I still wanna burn
that phone.
I want to feel my knuckles crack
on the face of every person, every friend,
who tells me
"It'll get better."
"There'll be others."
"You're young."
I want to hit them
and you
and me.
Because I think they are probably right
and that makes the whole thing
seem even more goddamn stupid.