I get so lost some days
I feel like I am rubbernecking lightning
Just waiting for the flash

And life is a Nissan brake-checking your awe

People say you can tell how close the storm is
By counting seconds between lightning and thunder
If you can see it
It is always close enough

I don't mean to romanticize everything
But it's what I do

The clouds look like scabs
In front of some bolts
Before they mesh back into the smooth blackness

I wish I healed that fast

I feel like
I've been deflated.
And it's melodramatic
but I'm a little heartbroken, too.
Because in my head
I built us a future
and I knew all these details
I shouldn't have.
It seemed right,
completely perfect,
and I was ready for some fairytale
ending.

There's a skylit drawl tumbling down the pavement
And a cardboard box waiting on your screened-in porch
And if we don't slow down, I think that we could make it
Back where we were before

And the sunsets fall when memories fade away
It's times like these that make me want to say

You are the light that brightens my eyes, you
Are the time I want to know, you are
The comfort of the ocean when I'm all alone
You are the fire burning slow from
All the corners of the globe

Now I'm here but
when I'm there I'm home

As the night comes all the lovers start their walking
Traced by footprints next to railroad tracks

There's nothing to say what goes away is
never coming back, try and relax

but if you ever come on back

You are the light that brightens my
eyes, you are the time (I
want) to know, you are (the comfort of)
the ocean when I'm all alone
You are (the fire) burning slow from
All the corners of the globe

Now I'm here but
when I'm there I'm home

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

August was a turtleneck that didn't fit.
Arrested at the crown of the head,
overheated gasp.

Don't you think- she thought,
I see the irony in everything I do?

Pressing ruthlessly against the yield of flesh,
probing against the pale underbelly, measuring
the distance between skin and bone.
is it better now? Is it better?

Imperceptible white ribbons at
the curve of the thigh, a bow tie atop
the gift of a new healthy body
swollen against the wrap.

I hate... I hate myself. Feels all wrong-

She eats her dinner and
the food digests in her brain.

Healthy, now? Is this-

Healing?