someday, the dust is going to settle
and the scab will form
over the hole you tore through me
the tapestry of hopes you’ve torn to shreds
with your jaded fingernails
and walk away
someday, i’ll brush the dust off my cheeks
and do my hair all pretty
for no one at all
and maybe i won’t need to tear myself to pieces
just to stay awake
amd i’ll know who i am
i’ll walk onto a stage
i’ll speak clear, and loud
and if you’re lucky
you’ll catch me on the radio
wouldn’t that be nice?
and i could put two smiley faces in my email
like a heartless killer
or tell you to shut the fuck up
when you talk about your outdated opinions
as though you expect me to agree
i could live my life like an inspirational quote
and retire to the town i grew up in
with all my best friends, and the charcoal trees to keep us company
and it’d be all right, really
and i know that hope can’t be trusted
but maybe this time, i could let it walk me home
in the dark
hold my hand
and tell shitty patchwork jokes
that make me laugh hysterically
kiss me thick-skinned and old
and leather-jacket-wearing
and blow away like smoke