and if it makes you less sad, i'll take your pictures all down. every picture you paint, i will paint myself out. it's cold as a tomb, and it's dark in your room, when i sneak to your bed to pour salt in your wounds.

.
.
.
.

and if it makes you less sad, we'll start talking again.
and you can tell me how vile i already know that i am.

i want to hurt you so badly.