sometimes all i can do is stare hard at your empty chest

at the space where his name is supposed to be inked forever

and wonder how many times i'll have to hit rock bottom

before i can't get back up again

but, hell, i don't know why i'm asking you

(i guess i just have no one else)

because you won't accept this quaver in my voice

or this stutter in my thoughts

even though i do

for christ's sake, please stop saving my goddamn life already

it makes it hurt that much more to come back from it

although i'm supposed to like the pain

but i hate this kind

the kind that makes me feel like i'll get better someday merely because you want me to

and jesus that hurts like hell 

because i'd so much rather stay in this purgatory forever

with the rest of the pain gone when you're here

and the wanna-get-better gotta-get-better pain

means that you won't be anymore

and, fuck, i can't deal with that now

and i can't imagine ever being able to deal with it

so i'll just breathe in, stop to think,

never pick back up that train of thought

and dive on on on