I’ve been told that I revisit you too often
As if you were my favourite place in the whole world
But the truth is you are just an old abandoned home,
With loose floorboards and spider webs and too dangerous to enter, even if the spiders are no longer there
So instead I walk around the premise and think of the first time you’ve kissed me
Or said my hair was like starlight
Or when you made me cry over something small and stupid that I can’t even remember what it was
And then I pack up
and drive home

1.
She asked him what he would’ve called her
And he said he would’ve called her a tyrant
And she would ask why
And he would say something like:
I have loved you with all my heart, my soul, my being
And all you did was lock me up in your attic to hide me from the light, starved me of your love that I felt I would go crazy
You tossed me off a cliff just to watch me climb back up and push me off again
You made me move mountains, oceans, and the position of stars acountless amount of times
And what was more, I loved you all the same
You loved me she asked
He said yes, because I was afraid of you
Afraid of me or afraid about what you would do if I was gone she asked
Both he replied

2.
She looked back at him
Her dark eyes staring
So cold and bottomless, but full of warmth like a dark blanket
She reminded him of Ivan the Terrible, with his notorious impulse and rage
And he grew afraid
But instead of yelling, she shook her head
It was nothing like that she replied
It was not like I wanted to hurt you
But I was hurting too
I was afraid of you
Afraid of me he asked
Yes she replied
I wanted to keep you all for myself and I know you hated me
But I didn't hate you, he replied, I hated what you are when the sun goes down, what you are behind closed doors.
But that is still me, she claimed
Yes, that is still you, he agreed
I saw your eyes meeting hers’ and in that moment I knew I would lose you
You did lose me, he stated
I did lose you, she whispered
She was safer, less prone to anger
You became so much a part of me that if you left I would have nothing left
But you knew I loved you he asked
Yes she said
I knew

She asked him what he would’ve called her
And he said he would’ve called her a tyrant
And she would ask why
And he would say something like:
I have loved you with all my heart, my soul, my being
And all you did was lock me up in your attic and starved me to death and when you felt I had enough you would give me food
You tossed me off a cliff just to watch me climb back up and push me off again
You made me move mountains, oceans, the position of stars countless amount of times
And what was more, I loved you all the same
You loved me she asked
He said yes, because I was afraid of you
Afraid of me or afraid about what you would do if I was gone she asked
Both he replied

In school they teach you about arithmetic, but they never taught me how to divide my attention between work and play,
to add up the number of times you took my breath away or the number of times you've made me cry,
To subtract the times I've thought of you or to multiply the times I've tried to be content with that.

While listening to the radio on the bus ride home, I've realized late in my life that love is not as simple as a verse chorus verse. It takes more than one than one person to write a song, and there are more parts to a song than the lyrics

And at night I wonder if the stars shine brighter for you now that I'm gone, or maybe they sparkle just like they always did, or if there's a girl you know who knows the story of a snail who loved a sunflower too much, but slowly inched away

Hands are wonderful but fragile, used to break and to mend and to hold and to push
Mine are constantly reaching for something but my fingertips always brush against you. I never know whether to pull you close or to push you away.

In school they teach you about geography and history, but all I've learned about was the places I wanted to travel with you, of the weather, and whether we'd brace the storm together or not.
Rather than a history, I wanted to know yours: I wanted to see your future, and what it would hold for you, and whether or not I was a part of it.

I was thinking about how you were something I've unearthed, and how you were some kind of treasure that had been left hidden for a long long time, but maybe you were, in a way, like Pandora's Box with a Pharaoh's curse and I've started to avoid mirrors for quite some time afterward because I knew I would hate what was looking back at me.

In school they teach you of science, but they never taught me of how unstable we were in our individual elements and when combined we could have been perfect, except when put under pressure.
When ignited, you stole my electrons which would make you more negative and I positively unable to talk.

I didn't think I'd think about you, years from now. How much have you changed? How much have I changed?

In school they teach you of English, of grammar, and I've learned that every word in the English language cannot even define what this is that I feel for you.
You could call it love, I could call it love.
But is it 'te amo' or 'te quiero' ?

The constructs and the boundaries we place on words, on feelings, reminds me of the walls I built when you left, with each memory of you to the number of bricks I stack a ration of 1:2; one to keep you out and one to keep me in.

What's the probability of my failure in trying?
Could I move somewhere new and uncharted? Where the weather is stable? Or even unstable?
Rewrite my own history book, but without you?
Would it burn me to try again? Would the chemistry work?
School has taught me many things, but it didn't prepare me for you.

In school they teach you about arithmetic, but they never taught me how to divide my attention between work and play,
to add up the number of times you took my breath away or the number of times you've made me cry,
To subtract the times I've thought of you or to multiply the times I've tried to be content with that.
While listening to the radio on the bus ride home, I've realized late in my life that love is not as simple as a verse chorus verse. It takes more than one than one person to write a song, and there are more arts to a song than the lyrics
And at night I wonder if the stars shine brighter for you now that I'm gone, or maybe they sparkle just like they always did, or if there's a girl you know who knows the story of a snail who loved a sunflower too much, but slowly inched away
Hands are wonderful but fragile, used to break and to mend and to hold and to push
Mine are constantly reaching for something but my fingertips always brush against you. I never know whether to pull you close or to push you away.
In school they each you about geography and history, but all I've learned about was the places I wanted to travel with you, of the weather, and whether we'd brace the storm together or not.
Rather than a history, I wanted to know yours: I wanted to see your future, and what it would hold for you, and whether or not I was a part of it.