Music Is My Everything

Fall themed lockscreens for If I Fall by The Story So Far

i always liked how your hands looked and not just in comparison to mine they were an artists hands calloused from building walls and skin covered in clay that cracked as it dried you see, i have two thoughts before touching someones hands are they soft? i hope not not too soft because four years ago i fell into a hole so as soon as they touch i wonder if they’re strong enough to help pull me to the top and are they cold? god i hope so because mine are so cold that anytime someone touches them they ask me if something’s wrong i know that most people have walls but i just don’t think mine are the same you are hiding away i am trying to escape i am inside of a cave trying to retain the memory of the last time that i saw the light of the day and i told you that where i am felt permanent and you told me to give it time because nothing is but the minute our hands touched i felt something click because they were strong with the force to dig your nails into the earth and make the world suddenly stop and they were cold like the metal gears and glass casing constructing a clock and i know that i’m not moving fast enough i know that so much time has already passed us up and i know that it must be frustrating to stand in front of someone who keeps promising you that they’ll get better without the evidence to back it up but you have to trust me the past is ugly but i’ll make it to the other side as long as i know that when i get there i’ll have somebody please, i know that i can do this i just need another half a month i can pull through this i just need our hands to touch

you said that you would always look for me in the crowd with the same eagerness that a child sifts through the lost and found searching for anything that felt missing never considering what would happen the moment you stopped as if the moment you’re not looking for an object is the moment it stops being lost i get it, you were cold but i wanted to be more than just a coat clinging onto a body that i was never constructed to hold or a mirror to look into when your reflection stopped looking like a person that you know i know that you know the feeling of new clothes but do you know what it’s like to sit at the bottom of a box every night replaying the fantasy of cold hands reaching inside to take you home

Counterparts | Decay