We share a dream,
a hope,
of a little tiny house
with a basement
and knives not sold in a set.

Of a dog and a car
and a bed on the ground,
and being a little late on the monthly rent.

Of goodbye kisses
when you'd leave for work
and I'd be off to school.
Of watching snow
off our back patio
and sneaking into the neighbors pool.

Of borrowing each others flannels,
and kissing our noses
and drinking tea in springtime
before I prune the roses.

Of our morning coffee,
yours black, mine sweet,
and I'd still make fun of you
for the way that you eat.

For fights about vinyl
and paint and a movie,
but not about the things
that you shouldn't have done to me.

So we want that,
we both do,
and here's where it stinks
is that you ****** it up
in our fight after drinks.

And I know you regret it,
and I'm sorry to say
that sometimes apologies
don't cut it that way.

I miss you, I do
and you miss me too,
and I want our little house
and our dog and you.

But you put her name
above mine on the list,
and if you asked me a month ago
who I would want to kiss
to you I'd be true
but it wouldn't be me,
if they instead asked you.

We share a dream, a want and a need
for places colder,
for dirt and for skiis.
Of snow caps and pine trees
and people to leave.

But I don't trust you,
with my heart or my mind
and while I still really like you
I can't decide
if it's worth all this trouble
you've shook up in your wake
If your the one with the heart
or the one with the stake.