Number 9

I held a vision of you in my arms
A dream of a memory
Of what used to be
I held something here,
that resembled you
A breath, a sound, a whisper
And I remembered you

I held a blur of you, swirling by
Something I knew
A part of you
I held something here,
that reminded me
A breath, a sound, a whisper
That'll never be

You broke me like a china plate
Made me anxious, and desolate
I'm in line as number 9,
after the first eight
I'm done with us

I held a shard of you in my hands
A piece of horizon,
a thirteenth chance
I held something here,
that resembled us
A breath, a sound, a whisper
And I remembered us

I'm done with your breath
With the sound of your absent voice
Done with whispers of your death
When both of us died
Couldn't you have stayed quiet and lied?