I Paid for Lights That Will Never Illuminate Your Face Again

[Spoken Word] I opened the laptop lid like I do on the first of every month sat in the same kitchen chair that still has the burn mark from when I left a cigarette on it last summer typed in the password I haven’t changed since you knew it and clicked the little blue “pay now” for the electric bill because the lights have been flickering again not the bulbs..... meeee..... but the company doesn’t need to know that The cursor just sat there blinking like it was waiting for me to admit something and suddenly the $62.47 isn’t a number anymore it’s the exact amount of days it’s been since I last heard your voice in real time not the voice memo I keep replaying when I’m too drunk to pretend I’m fine and I’m staring at the confirmation screen thinking how fucking ridiculous it is that I can keep the lights on in this empty house.... [Layered Harmonzing] but I can’t keep the lights on in whatever’s left of me... [Spoken Word] I told the therapist last week I was “doing better” I said it with that half-smile I practiced in the rearview mirror on the way there because admitting I still check your Spotify every night to see what you’re listening to feels like handing her the loaded gun and begging her to pull the trigger I still screenshot your stories and zoom in on your eyes looking for any sign that you’re as ruined as I am because if you’re not then I really did it I took the best parts of both of us and turned them into late fees and overdraft notices and that quiet little notification sound that makes my stomach drop every time my phone buzzes even though I know it’s never you [Layered Harmonizing] I’m twenty-nine and I still don’t know how to fold a fitted sheet I still eat cereal for dinner straight from the box I still sleep in the same hoodie I stole from your closet the night you told me to leave [Spoken word] it doesn’t even smell like you anymore it just smells like me and my cowardice and I keep washing it anyway because throwing it out would be the closest thing to closure I’ve ever done and I’m not ready to be the kind of person who closes things I’m the kind of person who keeps the tab open keeps the receipt keeps the wound wet so it never scars right I’m not asking you to come back I’m not even asking me to get better tonight I’m just saying it out loud while the confirmation email loads “payment successful” and I feel the same hollow laugh crawl up my throat because I paid the bill but the lights in here are still flickering and I’m still the only thing in this house that’s about to go dark and for once I’m not gonna lie to the screen.. [Layered Harmonzing] I’m not okay I’m not okay I’m not... [Spoken word] and that’s the most honest thing I’ve spent money on in years... [beat drops to just breathing and a single clean guitar note that doesn’t resolve] That’s it. Reed it slow. Let the lines trip over each other the way thoughts do when you’re this honest. It’s yours now. Go break some hearts with it.