a lack of things to talk about

i called you today

i must have called you a hundred times

the sea of noise is a ringing in my

ear as my lips conceal secrets

things i could never tell, god

i can't die these little deaths

not again, as the moths eat

away the fabric of my stomach

this is just a bit to familiar

this beautiful lie,

this one fraudulent crime

and you won't answer anyway

cause i know if you ever die

i would have

a lack of things to talk about

or i'd just lie