I'm sorry that life drives fast, riding the tail of clock hands
and that when you walk up the steps after working those overtime hours,
you need a little bit to yourself, you need a movie in the dark.  
I'm sorry that the rolling credits to you are eternity knocking,
I'm sorry that life gets so heavy.
like the heals of your shoes,
in every tread on the pavement
I wish we could go waltzing
I wish I could inspire a spring in your step
I wish I was growing up strong enough to feel the wind as its blown
and plan my day's by the sun
I wish I wasn't growing up weighed down by work boots of my own,
late nights under books that I never chose to read,
tokens of time stolen from my pocket while I watch
those lips move and those lips say nothing.
I wish I really was a super hero.
I wish I could turn back time.
I wish those credits rolling didn't remind me I'll never catch up with now.
and I'm sorry i don't know how,
to lift those little nails from your tires,
to make this easier on you.
I'm sorry that I leave the room
before the credits even come,
that my priorities are never quite in order
like the cupboard I never cleaned,
and the thank you you haven't received,
like the months I quit all but breathing
and left you to hold us both up.
and the time after when I hid in the dust
aggressively ashamed of myself
and still somehow blaming you for that and
for how I hate the credits that roll.  
and the arrows that toll each ebbing hour,
from you and from me,
from the could be memories.

I'm sorry.
life moves fast
and a heart is heavy.

I'd still love to learn to waltz.

I'm looking for a broken glass cure
want to melt away my solidarity in the flames
that  makes shadows over your smile crinkled face
I'm craiving 2am mischief, a walk to the shore,
cigarettes in a cave.
help my fellowship deficiency with street performers and a southwest mirage confused for a finish line.
I need rooftop dialogues and cold pizza eaten on the hardwood.
I miss laughter spilled coffee and falling puzzle pieces,
I need borrowed clothes and unannounced visits, tears in my eyes and a pain in my side. inside jokes and a reason to leave my bedroom.
I'm looking for a broken glass cure in a place with no rocky shore to aim at.

I'm looking for a broken glass cure
want to melt away my solidarity in the flames
that  makes shadows over your smile crinkled face
I'm craiving 2am mischief, a walk to the shore,
cigarettes in a cave.
help my fellowship deficiency with street performers and a southwest mirage confused for a finish line.
I need rooftop dialogues and cold pizza eaten on the hardwood.
I miss laughter spilled coffee and falling puzzle pieces,
I need borrowed clothes and unannounced visits, tears in my eyes and a pain in my side. inside jokes and a reason to leave my bedroom.
I'm looking for a broken glass cure in a place with no rocky shore to aim at.

it's been a while since i picked up a pen,
since i picked myself out of this rut i'm in.

i'll hold my conscience like a penny
and toss it in the well
because i don't want to know,
i could never know
let the pressure of decision
oxygenate with the copper
i want to swim in an Italy ocean
brighten the blue in their eyes
so i can see what was supposed to be
erase the lines we though't we'd trace
this painting was never ours to remake
melt that penny
i want the zinc
mold it to a chisel and
i'll hand it over
i'm still covered in dust
from that mine i worked in for years
shave my corners
soften my edges
unmake me
create me.

write me up in long strings of words;
maybe someday i could inspire myself.
show me how to turn my skin inside out.
i want you to read my veins like poetry;
they are as truthful as i can be.
my lips close like the seals of envelopes
and i'm a letter lost in the mail.
keep writing me,
i promise someday i'll come through.
like a broken radio frequency,
listen for me.
4:30am,
turn the dial,


listen for me.

every word you said
made me feel guilting for thinking
i  should  have  crashed  the  car  harder
i  should  have  made  it  *hurt.