So I made a cup of coffee the other day and
Let the steam waft over my face,
Wondering if it smelled like you.
(Just one of many delusions.)
So I smoked another menthol last night and
Wondered if your words would taste the same;
Cool and soft yet harsh on occasion,
(The kind that kills the craving.)
So I sat up on the roof tonight and
Tried to count the stars,
Attempting to pick which one would be best for you
(And doing my best to avoid the satellites)
But ending up with a hatful of dust.
So I walked barefoot in grass today and
Realized I couldn't feel my toes,
So I ran inside and lit one up,
Wishing you were in this sweatshirt with me.
So I paced my room like a tiger today,
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 with
All your barefooted goodness,
Leaning close or laying down and
Choosing a star or two 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.