recovery

you said I was your favorite, you're lost and last only one
kissed me hard like I was some fire you were trying to put out
but I just burned on

all night I lit the walls of your bedroom, kept us from dark
glowed at you
baby, I wanted to

and that's the truth
I'm telling the truth

but now you're just living on the the back of my eyelids
and I can't stand to sleep
uncomfortable, now.

and I know it's better that it is over, I know it is better
that you are far away, no longer bogging me down,
but I just hate the feeling

that love can turn so bitter, that all those tender touches
were really just strikes.

How could you blow this match out?