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Even though you don't believe you have a soul,
I know it's there. I can feel it.

Things you know.

Are you only aware of how badly I fucked up?
Are you only aware of how much I've hurt you?
Are you only aware of how much I've meant to you?
Are you only aware of the blood on your skin?
Are you only aware of the blood on my hands?

Or would you believe me when I tell you I'm sorry beyond belief. (And I'm trying.)
It was cold the nights I snuck into your room to pour salt in your wounds.
I will never forget the day you told me you loved me less,
and I will try harder to forgive the marks I've left on you.

I believe our filthy hands can wash one another's,
and not one speck will remain.

New beginnings.

Paint me inside your pictures.
Write my name in your notebook.
Keep me a secret inside the concrete of the walls surrounding your heart.
Call me a wishful thinker.