If it’s what you want, then don’t talk.
We’ll sit here in silence; no words, no letters.
We’ll sit here in silence
because maybe it’s better than realizing the truth we can’t handle.
I feel as if I’m trying,
and I’m willing to die to make you realize our situation.
As if nothings enough, we could make it out alive and unharmed.
I keep this inside with the best intentions,
but it brings out the worst in what we have.
We will get out alive.
My stomach feels like caving in every time I hear these words,
«it’s never too late and later is better than what we have.»
I feel as if I’m trying.