I know you live in the world

I know you do what you can


but the way you turn tight corners

seems to shorten my lifespan



it's not the weather I love

it's just the shape of the sky

but you shrink it to a keyhole

everytime you wander by

and I can barely miss

the package in your hands which is

my heart



you pack the powder so tight

you wrap it up in some foil

now it's not so much the rebound

as it is the sharp recoil

I've come to fear from this

undetonated bomb which is

my heart (which is my heart)

which is breaking again



I don't want to tell you what to do

I just wish you'd do it once without me asking you

I don't want to tell you how to act

I just wish the story that you told me hadn't lacked

the proper emphasis

on what I've got in mind which is

my heart (which is my heart)

which is breaking again

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