So I made a cup of coffee the other day
And let the steam waft over my face.
For some reason, I wondered if it smelled like you,
Or maybe I’m delusional.

So I smoked another menthol last night
And wondered if your words would taste the same;
Cool and soft or harsh on occasion,
But the kind that kills the craving.

So I sat up on the roof tonight
And tried to count the stars,
Tried to pick which one would be best for you
(And doing my best to avoid the satellites)
But ended up with a hatful of dust.

So I walked in the grass barefoot today
And realized I couldn’t feel my toes,
So I ran inside and lit one up
And wished you were in this sweatshirt with me.

So I paced my room like a tiger today,
Caged inside,
(Run, run,)
Wishing I knew how to make you feel
Like your words were enough to end the world.

(Or maybe birth it anew.)

So I made a cup of coffee today
And laid out on the roof,
Smoking a cigarette and picking out stars,
Wishing you were in this blanket
In all your barefooted goodness,
Leaning close or laying down and
Picking out some stars for me.

So I tried to sleep the other night
And took in the inevitable,
Sat up and smoked a cigarette
And wished upon a star.
Same broken wish, same tell-tale time.