I think I should smile.
I'm the face in your mind
When you scrawl those lyrics
And strum your guitar.
But I'm a cynic.
I can't say a word
Without wondering what will break
Because of its syllables.
You paint happy endings
With three shared breaths
And snatched New Year fireworks
Over a New York skyline.
I ink my heart on my skin.
Watch my palms, my canvas
I think of you when I write
On a crumpled paper napkin
Still stained with the cappuccino
And my tears when you waved good bye
Mouthing stolen words out the window
Our story begins tomorrow
For the hundredth time.