Venting, in a lyrical way. Not a sulky teenager way. Promise.

Remember how you used to count every breath as if each one was so precious it deserved it's own special place in time?
Remember how you asked me what I wanted to be when I was older, and my first answer was "like you"
Remember how you would laugh when you remembered the time when I cheered for our English team in a Scottish pub?
Or how you panicked when I was 5 minutes late?
Yet now we're standing here, face to face, the shells of your eyes are empty, vacant. You mutter something I cant hear about "not old enough" or "don't trust you"
Nice.
I say something back but my words are lost to the void that's between us, an entire world of space
I'm the one who's clinging; trying to stay in touch with my mother. But all the 'eh's and the sighs are getting old
So I plan to leave, and off I go- leaving you behind
And we'll count the tears as you once counted the breaths, and we'll realise that this is what we have been hiding for years
Strangers are not the people who are out on the street, they are the people you live with