I couldn’t tell you the moment I loved you but I can remember the cracks in my drywall Count them in scratchmarks on your inner thighs and then connect the dots I’d rather a twirl of the hair than a name, I’d rather a stranger’s embrace I’d rather look gorgeous when it’s not convenient, so I can pretend I’m not afraid Of death, psychosis, and nothingness The best osmosis nonetheless Are toxins that seep through this skin caked in vomit, I lie here motionless, legs quietly raised It feels like your voice sucked me dry long ago, there’s nothing in these veins And nothing outside these four walls I inhabit Occasionally work and the vast grassy meaninglessness Miss complicit, I miss the mysterious map of this poor brain That stopped shimmering long ago No one was there, no one knows Of hangings and healings, of ends and beginnings, Of constantly pinned to the doll, not the cushioning, Screaming and sighing have lost all their meaning It’s all been done before, I know. The development beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power. Fate. Were we fated to cross paths? Were we fated to part ways? Were those years wasted, or was it fate that had it all planned all along? How much of it was left to us to control? [Fate guides us through life, like a parent taking a child's hand. It can only watch over us for so long before we're left to our own devices.] It only can guide us part of the way. Up to the door. We are the only ones that can decide to open and walk through it. And that is the beauty of it all. Fate tries to works with us, but our own follies can destroy the groundwork it provides. The buildup. [Fate guides us through life, like a parent taking a child's hand. It can only watch over us for so long before we're left to our own devices.]