Tell me, who's walking by your side
to hold you as you stumble home?
With broken heels and broken heart,
cold wind of night to wrap your bones.
Tell me, who's sleeping in your bed?
You know he doesn't dream of you.
And he won't hold you when you shake
as memories flood back on cue.
Tell me, whose name is on your arm?
Scratched with a pen, like you wore mine.
Before desire had become
my one and only guilty crime.
Tell me, whose lips is it you kiss?
With closed eyes, hands on his cheeks.
But do you still pretend it's me?
Tell me my love had made you weak.
Copyright © Roman Atkin