"You no longer make my heart stop"
I admit with what could be easily mistaken for defeat
As if this were a curse and not a blessing
And I must contemplate then which is worse
The truth, or something else completely?
Trying to remember what happened between
June twenty-ninth and July thirteenth
Of the year where you broke up with me
But it's much easier to drone out lyrics to
Beatles songs and Death Cab for Cutie
Like late night poetry means anything
"Give it seven years, and you'll fall in love with me"
I say with pseudo confidence, just as an experiment
Wondering mostly how long it will take
For reality to bite my neck and bleed me dry
But knowing that even then my chances are
Quite frankly, slim to none
I am still trying to figure out why a counselor asked
If I ever thought I'd live this long
Who thinks they're going to live past eighteen anyways?
All I know for sure is maybe if I stay with you
I won't have to worry that my years will be empty
"First thing on your mind"
Becomes a catch phrase so recognizable
Even people I don't know can understand it means
That I want so desperately to know what you're thinking
To the point I'll scream out everything on my mind
Just for a hint or a sliver or whatever you could say
Dammit I'd take any pill every day
If only, if only I could keep this from changing
From turning into something overused
Stale or even bland and quite mundane
I promise if you ask I'll tell you everything
"What do you wish for at eleven : eleven?"
I might ask, but do I really want to know?
With my luck you don't make such wishes
And if you did--if by chance you whispered a wish
I doubt it would be something you would let show
It would always be something so secret and tight
Inside of your person, by every right
Don't think ill of me now, as I run over the hurdles
That should be slowing me down, but I don't
So please just take my hand, give her a squeeze and
Realize I'm jumping this time with you in mind