My apartment is your crime scene
there is no need to dust for prints because you're all over it
from the jar of nutella left uneaten
to the scent of the pillow you laid on last weekend
The pink mug with our initials on the bottom
the dead flowers on my coffee table
you must have forgot 'em
What will happen to the list we made?
how will I ever look at the bed the same?
I remember we struggled to keep our eyes open
as we talked into the twilight
and you took my heart that night
which makes sense
the perfect time for a break in...
So as I tear down the tape, again
redo the locks
get new keys and then..
clean up the mess you've made alone
because I can't wait for this place to feel more like home
one that I can share with someone who
well
isn't you.
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