Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck
Some nights, I call it a draw
Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle
Some nights, I wish they'd just fall off
You stare at your bloated stomach. You wonder what the child inside is doing. You wonder if it's sucking its thumb, or if its tiny legs are curled around its stomach, or if it's sleeping. You wonder if it knows the father is gone.
But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for oh
What do I stand for? What do I stand for?
Most nights, I don't know anymore...
Oh woah, oh woah, oh woah oh oh
Oh woah, oh woah, oh woah oh oh
Across your bedroom, there are bland colours. There are soft fabrics spread across the window. There are no paintings like before. No smiling photographs of you and him. Just one in your wallet. You keep it there since you don't use it. His blue eyes were filled with happiness, blonde hair falling across his face perfectly, peace sign against your cheek. His features are so chiseled and flawless, it's not easy to miss him. With you; it is. Stringy (h/c) hair, dull (e/c) orbs, small smile. You thought no one would even give you a second look. But he did.
And he's gone.
This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for?
Why don't we break the rules already?
I was never one to believe the hype - save that for the black and white
I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked, but here they come again to jack my style
And that's alright; I found a martyr in my bed tonight
He stops my bones from wondering just who I am, who I am, who I am
Oh, who am I? Mmm... mmm...
You think back to when you told him you were pregnant. He blinked at first, to see if you were joking. You you repeated yourself quietly, feeling as though you'd done something wrong. He quickly lunged for you, spreading kisses along your face, your neck, everywhere. You listened to him as he told you in a ghostly whisper how beautiful you were, how you were his amour, and how happy he was. You made love that night. Everything shouted at you that the world was a perfect place.
Then he left.
Well, Some nights, I wish that this all would end
Cause I could use some friends for a change
And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again
Some nights, I always win, I always win...
But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh
What do I stand for? What do I stand for?
Most nights, I don't know... (come on)
You'd come home to your cheery apartment. It was raining that day, you recalled. You wore magenta track pants, and a yellow stretchy t-shirt. Your pregnancy was beginning to show- this pleased you greatly, glad everyone could know.
"I'm home babe," you said, shaking your umbrella. Beads of rain jumped everywhere. You looked around the room, smiling coyly, waiting to surprise your lover. It wasn't like there was a risk of pregnancy at the time. You could have all the fun you wanted.
You called his name, checking around the cozy little home. Your smile fell every time he wasn't where you thought he'd be. Frantically, you'd wondered if something had happened to him. You rushed towards the kitchen, grabbing your phone, ready to call 911.
Then you saw the note.
So this is it? I sold my soul for this?
Washed my hands of that for this?
I miss my mom and dad for this?
No. When I see stars, when I see, when I see stars, that's all they are
When I hear songs, they sound like this one, so come on
Oh, come on. Oh, come on, OH COME ON!
Je dois partir.
The words were written in messy handwriting. There were no hearts at the end. No, "je t'aime." Just those ugly words. I must go. There were a million questions in your head. To where? When are you coming back? Why the fuck are you leaving me? Who is she? All those. But then there was something darker under that grainy, three worded paper.
You knew he wasn't coming back.
Well, this is it guys, that is all - five minutes in and I'm bored again
Ten years of this, I'm not sure if anybody understands
This one is not for the folks at home; Sorry to leave, mom, I had to go
Who the fuck wants to die alone all dried up in the desert sun?
You screamed at the paper. You demanded to know why your lover left. You crumpled it a thousand times, throwing it at the wall. You crawled into a little ball, hugging your weak arms around you, sobbing.
The thing that stood out most was how alone the atmosphere was.
My heart is breaking for my sister and the con that she call "love"
When I look into my nephew's eyes...
Man, you wouldn't believe the most amazing things that can come from...
Some terrible lies...ahhh...
Oh woah, oh woah, oh woah, oh oh
Oh woah, oh woah, oh woah, oh oh
So there you are, sitting alone in the room your child was probably created in. It takes two to make a baby. Well now it takes one to raise it.
The rain drums onto your windows, slapping it hard. A warm gush of liquid rushes through your body, dripping down your legs. Your water is broken, your womb is ready.
And you still feel nothing.
You stare down at your black converse. You should run to your car and drive to the hospital. You should be wearing a blue scrub outfit. You should have your legs spread out, pushing for the baby to come out. You should be thinking of names.
You can only think of one.
You hear your door open. The hinges creak rustily, golden knob slamming into the wall. There are footsteps, loud and squeaky. You don't care.
He stands at your door, staring at you, drinking you in. His breathing is heavy. You swear you can't even tell if your lungs are working.
"Mon cherie," he begins, running over to your side. He looks the same- still beautiful.
"Je suis désolé... I am so sorry mon amour." He takes your face carefully with his rough fingertips, pushing his lips against yours. The tiny stubbles of his beard scrape across your face lightly. You do nothing.
"Mon amour, please, écoutez-moi. Listen to me." He kisses you more. Before, his kisses felt magical. Now they are nothing.
"You left me," you say, removing his face from yours. "You left me." You allow your hand to sharply coincide with his face. The slap leaves an angry red mark.
"I'm sorry-"
"No." You smack him again, the other cheek. "You left me you bastard."
"I had to mon cherie-"
"You left me." You repeat this for what seems to be hundreds of times, hitting his delicate features. They are abused by your fists. You begin to sob, banging your hands against his chest, tears falling freely, like the precipitation outside. You stand up to punch him more, pain jolting from your stomach.
"(y/n)-" You will not let him get a sentence in.
"Fuck you!" you cry, punching him more, hands clenched into an angry ball. "How could you?"
"STOP!" He takes your hands, holding them together so they can't inflict anymore damage. You jerk free, wrapping your arms around yourself, crying quietly.
The other night, you wouldn't believe the dream I just had about you and me
I called you up, but we'd both agree
It's for the best you didn't listen
It's for the best we get our distance... oh...
It's for the best you didn't listen
It's for the best we get our distance... oh...
"I couldn't handle being a parent," he mumbles, coming closer to you on the bed. You dart away, refusing to look at him.
"I COULDN'T HANDLE IT!" he shouts. You see tears gather in his eyes, pinpricking his eyelashes. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't. It was too much."
"So you ran away for 9 months?" you ask bitterly. You run your hands along the blanket of the bed, the warm colours calming you down.
"It was cowardly, I know." He stares at the ground, not meeting your gaze.
"How could you?" you say, water coating your eyes.
"We cannot talk now, mon amour. I need to get you to a hospital." He catches your tears, thumbs rolling around them gently, wiping them off. "I'm so sorry."
A thought enters your mind. "You're going to leave me again."
He widens his eyes. They are still enticing. "No no no no no. I will be by your side, like I should have been." He holds your hand comfortingly. You don't swat him away.
"How do I know you're not lying?" You want to believe him, and you don't. The pain in your abdomen is becoming unbearable to even focus on his words that hang in the still air.
"You need to trust me," he replies, taking you into his arms. You don't fight with him. He drops you in the shot gun of the Mercedes, ignoring the speed limit. His foot meets the gas pedal, signifying a floor it. The sky is black with night.
Some nights, you just don't know anymore...