The Sawtooth Grin - Sometimes She Tasted Like Burnt Plastic Smells

I tried again last night but you held your breath like a fucking champ the solitude of without you is a welcome breath of stagnant air was I the last thing on your mind?
I turned away to lose you whispering words of longing devotion and these sheets are screaming youll rest uneasy this time around my valentine your silence is shoveling dirt in your grave regret is my only keepsake a faint momento of your bitter skin sleep well tonight and know that I wait