I used to come home to you
but now it’s only your echo.
I’ve tried to wrap myself in you
so I can sleep tight, it’s no use,
you stand behind me at my desk,
sit in the kitchen whilst I cook.
Sometimes I think you’re haunting me
but they are just memories.
Now, I come home to a warehouse
of everything we’ve done.
The walls we built are crumbling
flooding the house.
You never were a great swimmer,
I’m worried we’ll drown.