The Beauty Of Your Bones.

My days are heavy and my nights a blur. Emotions knocking on every door hanging by it's rusted hinges in my head, and I can't stand creeking much. But days go and go and go and I've spent hours sleeping, hoping that's enough. I've spent hours dreading waking up. But oh baby, the days I've spent wrapped in yellow with you.
I can't see tomorrow, I can't hold the sand.
But every now and then I still cup my hands.