You're always asking me why I keep the receipts
From every place we visit even if it's only a
Quick pit-stop at the Safeway where you used to work,
And I won't tell you why because you'd laugh
At me and remind me how silly romance is
Because I know you found that movie ticket with
The blue eyes sketched between the price and the
Title. And I know that you tossed it out the window telling
Me that the cute ticket officer's eyes were brown, not
The same colour as the stormy oceans I see
Crashing below your eyelashes on the nights when you
Won't tell me what your father said to you and that I
Found out from your brother that your grandmother died
The same day that you met me and that's why
You won't talk about her even though you know I can sympathise.
You always ask me why I write down your angry
Words but I can't tell you that it's because it's those
Moments when I know you're the most bare, even when
We're naked. And I also know the reasons why
After we finish, you always hide beneath the sheet
As though you're afraid I'll see the crescent-moon
Scar on your left hip that you will never tell me
What it's from.
I guess we all have reasons for our secrets but
Why would the world keep spinning in its unsung persistence
If we knew everything about it?
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 5:29 AM UTC
You're always asking me why I keep the receipts
From every place we visit even if it's only a
Quick pit-stop at the Safeway where you used to work,
And I won't tell you why because you'd laugh
At me and remind me how silly romance is
Because I know you found that movie ticket with
The blue eyes sketched between the price and the
Title. And I know that you tossed it out the window telling
Me that the cute ticket officer's eyes were brown, not
The same colour as the stormy oceans I see
Crashing below your eyelashes on the nights when you
Won't tell me what your father said to you and that I
Found out from your brother that your grandmother died
The same day that you met me and that's why
You won't talk about her even though you know I can sympathise.
You always ask me why I write down your angry
Words but I can't tell you that it's because it's those
Moments when I know you're the most bare, even when
We're naked. And I also know the reasons why
After we finish, you always hide beneath the sheet
As though you're afraid I'll see the crescent-moon
Scar on your left hip that you will never tell me
What it's from.
I guess we all have reasons for our secrets but
Why would the world keep spinning in its unsung persistence
If we knew everything about it?
