I will recognize you one day in a crowd.

"contain your excitement.  we don't want this blowing up."
yeah, we've got layers
pain under scabs under expensive fabrics
I send desperate emails rapid-fire
I am the lone bomber with no pilot or navigator
yeah, you've got your exit strategy
kiss the pall bearers at your husband's funeral
march the pain parade
what fun I am
all the words I write mean nothing
to the voyeur in my window, witnessing
entropy at it's finest

and the girl who visits my job saying how attractive I am doesn't notice
my figure slowly fading and my mouth forming the position of a silent
scream