Symptoms of Pride

Sometimes I'm distant

Hiding from the old pieces of my heart

Memories flood my mind and he's in my bed again

Objects are closer than they appear

They cover my entire line of view

I miss the fact that you're here

I don't see you in that seat

I don't feel your hands tangled up in my hair

I'll come around soon

You'll be hurt and your bags packed up too

My lips will fall quiet when sorry knocks at their door

And my eyes cut away when you walk past their windows

I think my disease is called pride

I've showed symptoms so long now