One day my heart beats with passion The next it waxes black If I seem a little callous I assure you it's just a scratch
I remember when you told me you'd been so unhappy. I tried to bring you back to me but you curled up on the other side of the bed, so I pretended to read my book. On page 22 you tried to touch my shoulder. On page 45 your ankles were wrapped around mine. I let my fingers fall onto the back of your neck and tugging gently, I smiled as you pulled me towards your side of the bed. Waking up in a tangle of warm shoulders and knotty hair. four-four-two thousand and seven.