Remember What You Told Me

Do you remember the last time you looked at me? Did you know then, that it would be the last? There’s still space for your breath here In my lungs There’s still shelter here Within my ribs There’s still the hollow ache Only you could soothe Where your bones used to slot into place Do you remember the last time you said you were mine? Did you know then that you would lie? There’s still an extra toothbrush in my bathroom And a cup that molded around your touch in my kitchen And a controller that sits next to the console collecting dust And I cling to the extra pillow you bought from your room When mine just didn’t do the job Do you remember the nights we shared here? There’s a stain on my pants I refuse to wash out And I press on it sometimes Drive my fingers into the fabric as I wear it Bruise my skin with force of it Just to mimic your touch Did you know then they didn’t mean a thing? And yet, if you walked in tonight I wouldn’t ask where you’ve been I’d only ask if you’re staying