Some days
I don’t know that you exist,
On others, I don’t even really care.
Some days
I want to slit my wrists,
‘Tho I fear I’ll find but emptiness there.
On so many other days
I’m simply lost inside my brain,
At least the parts that still remain.
And if you cut me all apart,
You’ll find emptiness and pain, no sign of a heart.

But some days
I cannot unremember,
For the sun becomes an ember
When compared to you.
Some days
All that will exist
Are the parts of you I’ve kissed,
So at least I will have all of you.

Some days
You’re my everything.
Some days.