You cut our ropes,

left the umbilical,

and now I carry around

this weight of broken hope.

I can't retrace,

and I lost my hold

and blame myself because that is all

I've ever known.

Your face shows doubt

when your head feels the wake of the sorrow.

Swore to me that you could live without

then the beg turns to take turns to borrow.

Help me down.

I just want this out.

When you bend, when you break, when you follow

you cut me out.

Then you cut our ropes,

left the umbilical,

and now i'm lost and I can't take this path back home.

Send a birthday card.

Leave a one-way note.

I lied. I'm sorry. This isn't easy. I don't know.

And you'd ask me to "open your walls to this."

But I'm scared, fingers broken,

and ill-prepared to let this drag out.

When you forgot the words to our song.

When you can't remember names its been too long.

When you stopped asking what was wrong

all the pressure built up it was too strong.

I can't make this better.

It fell out of my hands because

I just wasn't built to hold on.

and I can't remember names its been too long.

and I can't find your face in the crowd.

I made a promise said my eyes would stay shut

through something called the scope of all of this rebuilding.

I broke when I entered. Displaced from the center,

I can't find my way around this.

My wounds healed while my fingers fixed.