You say you’re scribbles and riddles,
That you’re nothing but raw and sore,
But honey, I’m just as used as you are,
Take a look at the scars I bore.
How could you forsake me?
Say you need to escape me?
How are you scribbles and riddles?
Your story isn’t written on paper,
It’s written on my skin,
And there’s so many dots and dashes,
I can’t even tell you where they begin.
I let you whisper your sweet nothings into my ear,
Calling my body “art”,
When it was nothing but your stupid canvas
A grave display that tore me apart.
You say I don’t know what love is
But I fucking loved you all this time,
And when you tried erasing all your pages,
I was the one who deciphered every line.
You know I can’t keep doing this,
I’m tired of the fights and the quibbles,
Please remind me again, Lillian,
How are you scribbles and riddles?
I want to believe what we had was real,
But the memories to me are bittersweet,
A love where we couldn’t keep hands off one another,
Is now one where our eyes can barely meet.
And that isn’t love,
Whether you want to admit it or not,
Because you lied and you manipulated me,
And I’d still give you everything I’ve got,
So don’t play victim,
You are not scribbles or riddles,
If anything your heartless monster,
A demon playing the fiddle.