"at a very young age
i was told to use my pain to make something beautiful
i'd pick up my paintbrush
and stroked every tear that raced down my cheeks
until sunsets radiated all over my face
maybe this is why they call it window pain
i stare out of my window and can almost taste the strawberry banana sky
my fingers softly caress the glass
but as soon as i imagine your bloodshot eyes and dampened cheeks
the glass shatters and my fingers bleed
maybe this is why they call it window pain
i told myself that i was over you
i moaned to the sound of other men's voices and danced to the beat of my own d