I can't help that you're alone,
Going through the family home.
I can't help you lift the weight,
Can't help but keep you up so late.

I am bathing past dark noon,
Knowing that I won't see you soon.
And here I lay in lavender salt,
Running through the breaking fault.

Writing in my Van Gogh book,
Of all the times I fail to look,
At all the space that never filled,...