I miss your shoulders your floral dress the radio static you play when you're upset Am I just a picture in your head growing fonder the longer we've been dead You You wash me down the sink I miss your breathing on my neck- the apologies I had no choice but to accept When flowers grow from my chest pick them from the ground for the vase upon your desk You You wash me down the sink Why do you want them inside you They don't know the first thing about you I wake up with a new bruise every day I still know you