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