I need you.

You said: 

There's something romantic in the curve of your cheek

And I'd like to hide my body there; 

Hope you don't mind it, won't be much trouble-

The soul won't be home, so just keep it warm. 

And I said: 

I'm no longer warm;

And my cheeks are full of lies, and pity, and bruises.

No room in the inn of my body;

I'm full of people who left their dead weight 

So now others see the little corpses

And they call them 'scars'.