you've put the rusty latch on
our white picket fence
said a heartless cold goodbye
to our perfect future tense

i cant leave your shoes
by that raging fire,
or sit and listen to empty
sunday morning tunes.
why is it me, myself
that you no longer desire?
here i am breathing,
love, your live wire.

you always liked the icing
on the warm cinnamon bun
you'd even pick the sprinkles
take mine one by one

girl for you,
i'd kiss the sun
take every single ray of light
and spread it out on your floor
tonight.