I lay, all bruised and cracked wide open, 

On the bathroom floor,

Memorise all the tiles

Like reading a book

I never want to end

Tiles you laid down, one by one,

Alongside your father

They still hold your fingers,

The stencil of your palms 

If I trace them long enough, hard enough,

It almost feels like 

I'm holding your hand

But it's 2:30 am,

And I'm drunk on the bathroom floor

And the tiles 

Just feel like tiles

And you haven't called yet

And I have a dreadful feeling 

In the pit of my stomach 

That you never will