Dripping Dry

Sometimes, I believe that it is okay to sit in an empty house and cry - the walls will hold in what you can't. But lately, this house has been a little bit too empty. I'm stretching out my arms as far as they can go but it's cold out there you know. Maybe we are just broken cups, that managed to fill each other up for a little while, late at night when the darkness crept over our eyes, but like most broken things, we were beyond repair and eventually everything leaked out through the cracks that are often invisible to the bare eye. Perhaps we got lost in a few months of moments and I was in a whirlwind of false hope that was never mine to hold, you were never mine to hold. I never felt the world cry on my shoulders before, I never thought I would have made it so easy for you to leave and I never thought you would go without looking back once.