Bulletproof+Weeks+by+Matt+Nathanson

An empty glass sits waiting to be filled with my vacant regrets. Stripped of all meaningful thoughts I lie in bed, empty. Like the glass.

A shot through my heart would have hurt less. Never expected this sort of end to our journey.

You, my sleeping beauty, should be right here in my arms. But you’re fallen asleep; plunged into that perfect yellow heaven.

You’re singing among the angels, looking down at me, drained by your absence. Pull me up. Show me the sort of light you’ve seen, so I can next to you, again.