You look as I remember
Handsome and tall
But when I see you now
I feel nothing at all.

You still smell like soap
And faintly of pine
But when I smell you now
I don't wish you were mine.

Your laugh sounds the same
Boyish and gay
But when I hear it now
I don't want you to stay.

Your eyes they still sparkle
Blue like the sea
But when you leave tonight
It won't be with me.

Your voice still sounds sweet
When you call my name
But when you say it now
It just isn't the same.

What we once were
I can't seem to recall
Because when I see you now
I feel nothing at all.

You traced the horizon with your fingertips
as if the sunset was something you painted
with Kool-Aid and cornstarch.

The ocean spit salty on the backs of our necks
As the sun faded behind the skyline of the city.
You kissed me hard then lit a cigarette. Laughing,
"Nobody watches the sunset on the East Coast."

I lay my head on your shoulder
as you dug trenches in the sand with your feet.
We sat in silence for a while, and that was okay.
You always said if the words aren't there, don't force it.

If the love isn't there don't force it.

If the love isn't there don't force it.

If the love isn't there don't force it.

I keep that sunset you painted with me all the time
and I look at it when I can't remember
what the sun feels like.

Wrinkled with time and more dull than I remember
it still stains my fingertips red and leaves a sugary sweet taste
on my tongue.

The most painful dreams
are the ones where I'm kissing you
because when I wake up, I know

I can't.

When it was late, and quiet,
And we'd lie in bed in silence
Staring up at the ceiling or
at the shadows on the wall,
Just when I'd think we'd
run out of things to say,
Just when I'd let myself start to drift
toward the peacefulness of unconsciousness,
You'd sigh deeply and plunge head-first
into an existential rant
worthy more of Kafka or Camus
than a half-asleep me.
Me, worried about the absurdity of gas prices,
not the absurdity of life.
And I'd roll my eyes when you'd ask me questions
I'd never even entertained, let alone have the answers to.
And you'd wonder if you'd ever find a meaning,
or a purpose.
And I'd tell you not to worry; to live more in the moment
If there is meaning, you'll find it
If not, you'll define it.
And you'd kiss me gently on the forehead,
And I'd roll over and fall asleep,
But I suspect you'd lay awake for hours after,
Never truly satisfied with the answers I, or anyone else
could ever seem to give you.

And I wonder now sometimes,
If you lie in bed next to someone new,
And ask her the same questions you used to ask me.
Maybe she has better answers.
Maybe she makes you forget about your questions.
Maybe you still lie awake at night,
wondering if you'll ever find what it is you're looking for.

And I still don't have the answers,
And I still don't understand all the questions,
But sometimes I lie awake at night,
Staring up at the ceiling or
at the shadows on the wall,
And I wonder if I'll ever find a meaning
or a purpose.
And I find I'm never truly satisfied with the answers
anyone can ever seem to give me.

It's Saturday
And I feel lonely
I drink some coffee
And I feel lonely
I do the laundry
And I feel lonely
I ride my bike
And I feel lonely
I buy some groceries
And I feel lonely
I watch TV
And I feel lonely
I smoke a pack
And I feel lonely
I down a bottle
And I feel lonely
I think of you
And I feel lonely
I call you up
And I feel lonely
The doorbell rings
And I feel lonely

I see you
You come in
I have you
You leave

And I feel nothing

Hey Billy Boy,
Listen:
Meet me on Tralfamadore.
You know when, Billy Boy,
We've been there before.

I'll be your Montana,
And we'll talk and we'll ****.
Until the time comes
We become time unstuck.

It's hard to adjust
To four-dimensional sight.
Strange to know the world will end,
With a fateful test flight.

Free will is a myth;
So resign yourself to fate.
Billy Boy, so it goes.
Just sit back, and wait.

It doesn't get cold here in Florida.
The leaves never seem to change.
The A/C stays on, the asphalt stays warm,
A day below 60 is strange.

It doesn't get cold here in Florida,
At least not down south, on the coast.
The seasons go by, and it rains for a while,
And barely a breeze at the most.

It doesn't get cold here in Florida.
Sandals and short sleeves abound.
Scant is a sweater, and for worse or for better,
Pools are open year round.

It doesn't get cold here in Florida,
At least not by way of degrees, but
Your aloof demeanor gives need for a heater,
Without one, I think I might freeze.

It doesn't get cold here in Florida, but
You could have fooled me with your chill. If
Your eyes are your weapon, then baby I reckon,
When you look, you aim to ****.

It doesn't get cold here in Florida,
That's what I used to say.
Until I stepped out in a moment of doubt,
And you've never stopped making me pay.