you say that I'm pasty
but what keeps things together better than glue?
you say I'm odd
well so is number one
so I guess I'm number one to you
you say I'm crazy
so was Einstein
you say I'm a *****
others would say I'm just more mature than you
you say,
you say...

I don't care what you say

your arms wrapped around me
just sitting on the couch
humming along to the songs of our favorite movie
and I'm in that sweet spot
where I'm wrapped tight in your arms
rain pitter pattering on the windows
almost asleep but not quite
just at the edge of consciousness
where my leg twitches but I still know I'm in your arms
and i can still feel your breathing
with my head on your shoulder
still hear you laugh when I twitch
this sweet spot should last forever
but our favorite song comes on

I'm no longer a sickly shade of paste
I'm a bright pink
cheeks hot, my heart fluttering
with every touch, every movement
because this moment
has me suspended in time
and floating in space
something the doctor couldn't even fix
I wouldn't want him to
this moment suspended in time you
a third world, our own space
every sentence, every word
spoken softly, trying  not to cut the strings
that keep us suspended in time
a moment  that would be a crime to forget
Don't let go, let me turn brighter pink
if it keeps us suspended in time

a mind that races faster than legs
running circles around  itself
I couldn't quite it
nor could anyone else

but when you're here it seems to fade
the racing mind
the tug of war of thoughts
it all goes quite

not a sound or a thought
a rag doll in your arms
an empty mind
a racing heart

There's something about the way you talk
the way you turn and look at me
like I'm made of glass
Careful not to let me fall
break into a million pieces
but glass is strong
and so am I
but you don't always see it
because glass isn't as clear as we think

There's an unsettling quiet that hangs in the air
an empty stage and abandoned chairs
dust settled on red curtains
empty theaters abandoned stages
past actors linger on curtains
laughs and cries hang in the air like ghosts
scratches on the floor of stories past
empty chairs where laughs and tears were shed
the curtains red
hanging half drawn
but where are the people? the show must go on

I know its time to turn the page
but the pages stick
they're damp and glued together
with my tears
turning the page means facing new fears
I want to turn back
go back to the last chapter
before one of my favorite characters left
and I'm not sure if she'll make another appearance
I hope so
I want to go back to before it started to crumble
I want so badly to go back
but i don't have choice,
I have to hit play and turn the page