my thoughts run wild. like thorns on a bush. the same ones i used to stitch your sweater with. so you’d itch for more. so you’d feel. but now these thoughts are fenced off in a small vacant room. with a single lamp in the corner. flickering to the rhythm of the mistake of us being here, together. so i grab a hold of your wrist to smash that light. because tonight is the night i’ll sleep, alone. and in my sleep I’ll dream of silence. and let go of days when I itched to make you feel.