i want saturday mornings to always smell like
black coffee and your cologne

i want to wake up before the sun rises
and walk around in wool socks, sing elvis presley
under my breath because i'll never admit it
but when i fell for you it was relentlessly and without
inhibition and
                          i just
                                     could not
                                                   help myself

i want to carry two mugs back to bed instead of just
one and i want to be there when you wake up
slowly

Crying ******* the side of the road,
a broken girl and nothing more.
A tainted soul, unguided *****.
A broken girl and nothing more.

Homeless man begging for some change,
a homeless making minimum wage.
****** his life and threw it all away,
for a ***** white in some nice lingerie.


Tattooed man behind cold steel bars,
thought he'd get away with stealing cars.
Looks like he didn't get too far,
another ****** ******* up our tax dollar!

Drugged up man on the beaches of L.A.,
took his life and threw it all away,
for used needles and a little *******,
thought addiction was a game he could win, what a shame.

**** it all and throw it away,
looking for life in all the wrong places.
I will admit though, just this one time,
their life sure sounds more interesting than mine.

our time was always
borrowed,
our lives weren't
our own,
all we were meant to have
were hours,
and what a mess
we've made
with those.

it's the way you call me
darling
and the way you kiss my lips;
your head resting on my shoulder,
the gentle swaying of your hips.
it's the days you text
"good morning";
it's the way you drink your tea,
it is in your awful driving
and the way you smile at me.
it's the way you make me laugh
and the birthday card you sent,
how your perfume always lingers,
how you softly touch my hand.
it is that you burn your fishsticks,
that you curse the rain outside,
it is that you named your cactus
and the way you say "good night".
it is in the little moments,
in those little things you do;
and I know, without a doubt,
that I can't stop
loving
you.

i got in a fight with her daughter
the other day and now it's like
i'm a kid again
and she's the woman
who thinks children should be seen
and not heard

but i should be seen; i need to be heard

i'm going to scream until my throat bleeds.

i want to be like the bee
and sting you everytime you say
i feel nothing
i'll only get to sting you once, really
i'd die for you and it scares me
but what's more terrifying than living for nothing
and if i do -- die for you -- i'll know:
a little stinger
the remains of myself
will always be part of me,
will always be part of
you.

while heartache has left me
it still lives in
the threads of your hair woven
into my carpet with the stain
from when you puked up
the alcohol
we bought together from
that bottle on the shelf we
had *** against and
then left the ****** in
the trash can
that still sits next to
my desk
where you taught me definitions
of words like 'wanderlust'
which still slip into my
small talk and
when i'm not careful
they come out sounding more
like heartache.

all i can say is
i'd really like to know
what it feels like
to wear your shirt
to sleep.