If it makes you less sad, I’ll move out of this state
You can keep to yourself, I’ll keep out of your way
And if it makes you less sad, I’ll take your pictures all down
Every picture you paint, I will paint myself out
It’s cold as a tomb, and it’s dark in your room
When I sneak to your bed to pour salt in your wounds
So call it quits, or get a grip
You say you wanted a solution; you just wanted to be missed.

You are the smell before rain, you are the blood in my veins.

(via shapeshift-your-brains)