there's nothing i could call this
o architecture for the order of things
when i sat and watched you sleeping
before the trucks arrived
boxed up your better life
i wrote you letters for a while
left to haunt this sad estate
in hollow walls and empty halls
but all i saw was
some doll that you'd abandoned
so i crawled inside
where the stitching held me tight
and hoped that you'd come back to find me some time
i hope that you'll forgive me
for being so severe
your proximity was clouding my account of what was real here
you're eight years old
i'm stuck inside the wall
you always talk
but never hold me
and i wish that you would ask me how i'm feeling
there's so much i want to tell you
'bout the way i'm disappearing
and so many years have passed since that
i left the house
i left a map
to my new wall
you must have never found it
and i heard that you got married
and i hope she(he) helps you fall asleep these days
'cause i knew the ways
when you were eight
you're not what i imagined
you'd become when we were younger
but i'm still in love with that one
and i've since found your parent's house
and live inside the walls
but you don't ask about me when you call