6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,<br />and I still don’t know which month it was then<br />or what day it is now.<br />Blurred out lines<br />from hangovers <br />to coffee<br />Another vagabond <br />lost to love.<br /><br />4am alone and on my way.<br />These are my finest moments.<br />I scrub my skin<br />to rid me from <br />you<br />and I still don’t know why I cried.<br />It was just something in the way you took my heart and rearranged my insides and I couldn’t recognise the emptiness you left me with when you were done. Maybe you thought my insides would fit better this way, look better this way, to you and us and all the rest.<br />But then you must have changed your mind<br />or made a wrong<br />because why did you<br />leave?<br /><br />6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,<br />and I still don’t know which month it was then<br />or what day it is now.<br />I replace cafés with crowded bars and empty roads with broken bottles<br />and this town is healing me slowly but still not slow or fast enough because there’s no right way to do this.<br />There is no right way to do this.<br /><br />There is no right way to do this.