I keep telling myself
write it out,
talk it out.  

but the smell
of your sweatshirt
erases my writing

and leaves me speechless.

Honey I came home, to the clearing by the creek.
To the place where our smiles are lit by the roaring midnight flame.
To the place where the lullaby water sings us to sleep,
So we can dream our whiskey dreams.

Where the stars watch over, with their hundred million eyes.
Where we hold one another, in the rainy month of May.

Honey I came home, but not a soul is near.
Only ashes in the ring dare to hint that we were here.

Those summer months have faded in to fall,
It makes me wonder if we were ever here at all.

Honey, won’t you meet me at the clearing by the creek?

It's a call with no response,
sleeplessness and cigarettes.
Whiskey haunted memories,
of something that wont ever be.
But he didn't promise, didn't lie,
You knew this from the beginning.
Girl, quit your dreaming.

Stand unwavering in the snow,
Brace against the wind.
Stone-faced, I was born in the cold.

Wake up to the winter man,
cold and uninterested.
But, beautiful nonetheless.