i’ve begun to think there are quiet suicides where there are no notes had notes been left we’d have some explanation and these ghosts might abate for the stories told hold small fragments of our lives though concealed from us we so quickly blame broken hearts as cause of death though some may be but what reason to live if all that one has cherished willingly chose death
honey if you want to get it right in the night don’t go talking ’bout what’s wrong in the world or whose done you wrong at some point in your life or who you’re gonna worry ’bout next just empty that worry bin and see and touch your lover