There’s a folder of pictures I can’t open.
There’s so many songs that don’t sound the same.
There’s a number I can’t dial and a message I can’t send.
There’s a restaurant I can’t eat at, not with any friends.
There’s words and names I can only say in my head.
There’s a pair of eyes that belong to you, that I can never look into again.
I Wrote This For You: The Missing Machine
Many parts of me, I couldn't look at properly after I let you go. I did not anticipate all this space.
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