It’s you
in the memories
I don’t want to think about.
It’s you
in the people
I can’t be around.
It’s you
in the voice
that won’t stop talking
loudly in my head.
It’s you
when I’m drunk
and alone on the floor.
It’s you
every late night
when I can’t ignore the truth.
All the nights
I was feeling sure of myself.
It’s you
in the pictures
of the past.
It’s you
with the girls
that didn’t last.
It’s you
in the walls
I built up so fast
to keep myself safe.
That’s a lie.
It’s you
in the bruises
on my face,
and the scars
that I can’t change.
It’s you
in the lies
and the games,
in memories
and in my dreams,
and in the silence,
it’s you.
And I don’t know
what I’ll do,
or what I’ll lose,
now that you’re back around.
Because I buried your name
in places
no one found,
and I’m afraid
you’ll dig it up
before I’m ready
to put it down.
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