And you are like the tides.
When you return you crash against my shore
wash every wall, every 'this is why not' away
and when you go, you take my hopes and my heart with you
back into an ocean where I can't follow
because I am the land.
Your surface is littered with love notes in bottles
hasty, angry words, ink smeared down the middle
receipts with 'I'm doing fine' and 'I think it's better this way'
scrawled across their backs like paper stitches
corks unopened, graphite running
soul untouched
I fucking hate metaphors,
their substance reduced to anecdote
like we're all just one anxiety attack away from losing ourselves
and if you are like a fish and I am like a bicycle,
that knowledge will help us hold on
while we're trying to let go
I don't dream anymore
I just see shadows on the backs of my eyelids
and maybe one of them has a name that sounds a lot like yours
and if I could only see it, I would remember
what it feels like to hold your hand
but the memory's fading
I never felt that before
Never knew someone's eyes could open the universe wide
never knew all the answers were a palm against mine
never liked winter mornings until I woke up with you
never liked the rain until it let us stay in your room
never liked churchlight until the sun shone through your window
And if being grown means agreeing that sometimes,
love just isn't enough
first star on the right, and straight on til morning.
