I can't recall that last day of sun, curtains closed and sitting with the lights out, an uncertain emptiness surrounds me.
I'm numb and my judgments have switched to autopilot.
Nothing left but echoes and thoughts of moving on.

Don't stay away but don't stay here.

Tell me all your secrets. I promise I'll be listening and if you ever come back home I'll be waiting patiently.
Tell me nothing is sacred. I promise I won't hear a word and if you ever come back home, I won't act so patiently.

Black feathers and an unannounced call. These things go hand in hand, like talking to you and the intake of glass. I hope this knife in my hand speaks for itself... She's not coming back.