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I haven’t left the house in a hundred days I saw you peek through the door pry it open some more you said it’s been a hundred years since we last spoke you can feel for my pulse if it proves I’m not a ghost most nights I try not to drink myself to sleep convince the clock I still need more time to think but every sip sip sip’s another tick tick tick and I’m not done yet, I’ve half a bottle left and we can stay out late and hope to god it’s okay and we can stay out late and hope to god it’s okay and we can fall and still land on our feet we’re okay and we can stay out late and hope to god it’s okay I still tell myself that I can tell the difference rid the night of the dark, strip the light from the day rid the night of the dark, strip the light from the day but right here right now I know I should just let it go so tonight I dim off the lights and look up and draw dumb pictures on the ceiling From Letras Mania