When you tore through here
You left a hole in my chest
So big you can fit a finger

Ive been cleaning house these days
Washing their mouths out with soap
Cause the walls and corners
Just cant stop saying your name

Some days leave me limp
I have no control over my dangling limbs
I look like a deflated balloon
Or a used condom

I languish in quiet rooms
Ones I have already scrubbed clean
And for what?

The loss from the hole in my chest,
Or for a finger to fill it?