To fill my weak torn out lungs
With air that no longer carries your sent
I’m trying to move on
I’m trying to hold on
And you can’t even give me an answer to that
I’m trying to keep from crying
But this bowling ball in my chest
Or perhaps I’m the goal tender here, not you
And you have the stick and I have no pads.
To move to stay still to soak it up to feel
But like the waves we kissed near the shore, the walls of pain keep hitting me
And I don’t know if I should drown
Away into the open unknown sea.