Lyrics

I do not water your garden of love anymore, but the hydrangeas still grow there. I try to forget about you, but the shower drain is still matted with your hair. My drawers are still lined with your scent, bedroom pillows still dented with the imprint of your neck. The printer is still out of ink because I still don't know how to fill it because you always did that. I am Linus and my heart is the blanket I drag behind me, picking up love and dust and dirt and love. My heart is a hoarder. I'll admit: I have not deleted the text messages yet. My heart is not a hunter, but a gatherer. My heart has white knuckles and trouble letting go of you. Why would anyone let go of you? You, who once doused my skin with your wet mouth like gasoline. You, the jammed light switch permanently glowing inside of me. You, who is not a chapter in my book, but the page I am writing on.