Drag these weary legs
A thousand miles just to
Beat you down.

(Mostly so I can lift you up again.)

Live these days in anticipation
Of events that will never happen.
We’re running out of the short term
Because these lies are finally lifting their masks.

These pens are running out of inkThe way your heart is filling up.
(Will there be any room left for these crushed petals and
Stale cigarettes?)
The coffee will get cold eventually and
The stars will dampen beneath my gaze,
Lighters will run out of fluid and
These petals will dry out and fall from your shoes.

Maybe you decided this truth,
Or maybe I’m just now understanding the plot.
But somehow these lies
(Once white and necessary)
Are blackening beneath the flame,
Withering beneath your eyes.

And the clocks are skipping 11:11
While the stars are killing crickets
(And the hopeful songs they carry.)

Someday these words will reach you
And you’ll realize that your happiness was all that mattered,
(Even if it killed me a little inside.)

Then maybe I’ll realize the same
And get over this stupid hope
The way he’ll make you do the same.

Maybe that’s okay.

(Even if these lines lose their life.)