Your Mental Funeral

Black dress in my bedroom, mascara on a Tuesday noon. Lighting candles for

a living man, burying what we could've been. You lied in a rented car,

I cried on a bathroom floor. Tiny heartbeat on a grainy screen while you chase

some brand new dream. This is your mental funeral. I'm laying down

the love we knew. Flowers on the grave of us. Shovel out the

trust I gave to you. But I'm raising him like a miracle.

He'll grow beyond the damage that you did. I'm praying every single day my

boy is nothing like you. Nothing like you. Nothing like you. You left with