I'm disinfecting myself of you're disease.
I coated my insides in alcohol,
and then I found the box of Band-Aids,
and the perfect song to sooth my soul.
(I am healing,
from something beautiful)
that I will miss,
when the scars begin to fade.
(you don't have to call tonight
like you said you would.)
and keep the jacket
I'm not cold anymore.