There was a still darkness
seeping in through the car windows,
and we turned up the music
and we smoked six cigarettes
and we talked louder than we had to
and we laughed at things that weren't funny
and we drove passed your house,
eight or nine times
before we stepped out into it
We did all we could to keep it outside
but it was inside of us all along
so all the noise
was just noise
And all the movement
was just movement
And we knew that
as soon as we were alone
in our beds at home,
we would have to face it
And we were better at
hiding
than we were at
confrontation
But there was an eerie,
sharp pain in
the backs of our calves,
through all the pretending,
that served as a reminder
that we couldn't talk forever
and we couldn't smoke forever
and we couldn't
drive to the ends of the earth
Not in your beat up two seater
But we just wanted
heat and closeness and music
We just wanted something
other than the darkness
to hold us
We could never hold ourselves,
We knew that
We weren't the kinds of people
who held themselves
But we were sick
of feeling like we were dreaming,
when we were wide awake
We were sick of feeling
like we were seeing the world
through a scratched,
and dusty lens
There was something growing in our bones
that we didn't know how to describe
It was a dull aching
that didn't come from the outside
And the thing that would eventually
drive us out of our minds
was that we never
really could find
a safe place to hide