implicative

 
i never bruised my knuckles before i met you
and i swear
not once in my life
to have cut my thumbs
and now there's a decent gash in each

they are starting to turn into scars
kind of like you
like you were a war with a box-cutter
like you were a territory that i had to fight my way out of
i wish it were like that

but you left silently
see, i never cared enough to make myself happy
things came as they went
i played the water tide
flowing
but you know as well as i do that
people will devour your emotions
they will make it hard
to feel new feelings
to love new people

and i swear i was happy before i was sad
and maybe you were for a while, too