The string is still broken on that guitar you played
I probably should've fixed it, but you probably should've stayed
The clock is still unplugged and theres spirals on the floor
I sleep beside your pillow and that t shirt that you wore
Your picture's in a frame and the song is on repeat
And the chair you loved to sit in is just an empty seat
Your voice is in my head adn your scent is in the air
The poem you last wrote me is still laying over there
Im chewing on your pencap and the paper came from you
That cup is where you left it by that picture that you drew
I reach for the last tissue from the box up on the shelf
I might need you to clean my room, but i can cry myself.