Because I’ve got a shortage inside this heart of mine and some days it still feels like it’s beating for other people when it should be working for this smile that I’ve been faking and I know you’ll hate these decisions, but I’m just another crease we can’t iron, I’m just another book we put down and I’m a lost poem you’ll never read again. Some days I’m still trying to find myself while being lost, some nights I’m clinging onto the longest parts of the breaking. Daylight comes short when all I’ve been doing is sleep, so this is just another letter you won’t be getting. Silence is an old friend and you’ll kiss it until your lips are thin. These secrets won’t leave my lips, I won’t kiss where it hurts anymore. You’re a memory I’ll soon forget, but not until these poems start to look like you. I used to write to remember, but lately… I’ve just been writing to forget about you.