(I think?) | Pocketdimension

leaving is hard

You’ve got fingers made of fishhooks

They’ve dug into my skin

And yet you’ve got me thinking it’s you who’s let me in.

If I move they sink in deeper

Keeping me in place

How could I want to leave with that kind smile on your face?

They’ll shred me if I pull away

But if I manage to get free

Then somehow you’ll convince me that I’ve hurt you more than me.

I had to leave the country but I left her and I made it out