lovely.

I won't tell her about the scars on my hips

because she doesn't need to know, see,

I can't risk it - that sunrise each morning

the one that reaches past her lips, chapped, rising from slumber

that goddess, my Inamorta.

If she knew about it, I think,

she'd be worried about me.

"do you wanna talk about it?"

and I'll just say no, because I don't -

I won't -

He's just a sad song with nothing to say

nothing to hear, nothing of substance;

I'll get a

"did you love him?" I can't lie

he was my lovesick (romeo)

and I was his (starstruck) juliet -

I know we could, if we tried,

I know we could have painted the sky in my bruises

in my tears

battered walls, student loans,

we could've been (beautiful)

I won't tell her about the scars on my hips,

I can't - I don't have the strength to make her

burst, like how I once did,

my god, my (Indra).

Isn't it lovely, all alone,

sometimes it comes back, sometimes he resurfaces

just to drown me, all over again,

"oh, what a man" (Asmodeus)

"you picked a good one" (Beelzebub)

"how do I make it out of here?"

I won't tell her about the scars on my hips,

it's too hard, okay -

her heart is like the moon,

it is pure, it is light -

I can't put it out, I can't, I can't

hurt her, I won't, I shouldn't, I -

"scared?"

yeah

she's lovely, she is

he's lovely, he was,

they're beautiful and

I survived. And I have her.

It's lovely, it is.