Thumbing through magazines
Painting a dream house
Being mocked by the crack in the ceiling at the top of the stairs
Wishing it'd swallow me whole
Quiet and whole
It's your decision to change
But I'd rather make it for you
I've got a sneaking suspicion
Please don't leave sooner than you have to
An itch I can't scratch
Count me in I'll bow down and sow a garden of backbones I never had
Running circles straight into the ground
Spine bent back
Purple, red
I'll continue to carry you
Perpetual, preventable ache