You are the train
Going past
At three o'clock in the morning
Making the window panes
Shiver

You are the rain
On my roof
Falling
Softly
Loudly
Recklessly
Echoing
The tracks of my heart

You are the wind in the leaves
Running their fingers
Over me
Green
Stained gold
By the paling
Descending sunlight

You are the waves of the ocean
Falling and falling
Grabbing onto
An idea
Onto a shore
Only to be sent away

You are the shots
Of a live
Imagination
Crashing
Beside me
Running

You are the whistle
From the steam
Filling the kettle on the stove
I still
Make sure there's enough water

You are the footsteps
Known by someone
So well
Coming up the stairs
Sure and safe

You are the sound of a whispered word
Into a lover's ear
Hypnotizing
It doesn't matter
What was just said

You are the pluckings
Of a guitar
On a cloudy morning
Soft
Swaying
Moving
Making me dance
In sadness

You are the sound of your voice
Wanting

you looking at me
the way i wish you would look
at her
your eyes
sweet and peaceful
please look away

your fingers
sought out reasons
to feel mine
to touch
my skin
and you tell me
all the things
a girl
wants to hear

please don't love me
the way you think you should
the way you think i should be loved
my heart has a wall
when it comes to you
and all the others
that aren't him
and i can't
love you back

this will only end badly
the more you come to see me
the more you whisper
what you feel
i don't want someone to need me
or laugh
at the stories i tell
that aren't funny

i don't want to be so apart of someone
that i can see myself
a reflection
on their lips
when they smile

you think i will bring you happiness
and safety
but i can't
bring those things to you
please don't love me

you are not him
and i am not her

We lived on hard liquor avenue
Sat outside the bar every night
Just to have the alcoholic smell seep into our clothes
And watch the people go round and round, listening to the captivating music play

The stuff we've been mesmerized by and can't let go of

We're the reminder of where you don't want to be
Too young to be in these parts
But we're just lost here anyways

I lost control a long time ago..
Gave my soul up to Commercial St.

sometimes my parents will ask me
"are you really going down that road again"
with such disdain and bitterness
and it just makes me so angry
because they do not realize that depression
is not a road one chooses to go down
and it is not a road one can easily exit
it is an unpaved road riddled with cracks and potholes
with no street signs or stoplights to guide us safely home
and to accuse someone of willingly taking that road?
well, that is how some of us end up there in the first place
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