as the auctioneer calls out the final bid
i can’t help but think it’s something i did
sinking in mud with you still wet on my lips
trying my hardest to not steer into the skid

she’s the thorn in the side of my heart
if i had it to do again
i would've skipped this part
it feels like i woke up on an airplane
with a loaded gun
i’m trying to move on
but i keep my shoes on
so i’m always ready to run
it’s not the same
it’ll never be the same
i hope i find another flower
just as pretty as its name

i’m still the same words in a new font
same old punchline but more nuanced
the same marathon you’ve been running
under all the layers, an onions still an onion

the days keep getting longer
i’m in bed before the sun
i tried to escape my hunger
but there’s nowhere left to run
if i could be the hunter
i think that might be fun
swinging at the thunder
but i’m a bullet without a gun

i know she’s more than capable
she left me at the table
the lines we drew won’t intersect
it’s probably best we never met