it’s been a year now, hasn’t it?

or maybe it’s been two

because time is weird these days, and sometimes

i think about you

your fearless desperation

and your clandestine hope

and i wouldn’t go back for all the money in the world

but sometimes, on long nights, i let myself miss you

lie to my face in the mirror

that the old days were good

say i am a washed-out version of the person i used to be

slowly melting down

which makes it better, somehow

paint the past a rose-tinted shade

and let the aching knowledge

that i have never felt this before

wash away with the waves

and now i think i understand

why people cling to tradition

stick to the same routine

wear it rusty and jagged

sleep in old t-shirts

’til there are holes in the sleeves

and paint myself innocent

pretend i don’t have a clue

when you say the past few years

have changed me

made me cynical, and guarded

but stronger, too

replaced manic desperation with sharpened teeth

bite-marks and warning signs

’cause these days, i step slowly

these days i wear winter coats

and hold my keys like a knife

but i refuse to be afraid

of the passage of time

and the lines on my palm

like old wood, telling stories

of all the places i’ve been

i refuse to cower in the corner

and sing myself to sleep

lingering in a false history

like warm sheets

so i will bury your t-shirts

and your headphones i can’t bring myself to throw away

in a box in my closet

’cause some day, i’m gonna see you in the mirror

and i’ll kneel down on the carpet

stroke your cheek, as i tape your pieces back together