I may not know exactly what to do
this could be all wrong
this could be all right
all I know is
I like how when my head becomes
too heavy and folds to the side
it comes to rest on your shoulder
resembling a shelf I can escape to
high above the sharp teeth memories sometimes
leave bare, snarling yet whimpering
afraid they are being enclosed
shut away
in a wooden box. smooth wood.
surrounded with travel tags that turns out lead to
the closet

this could be all wrong
this could be all right
however I know when my eyes drift I say goodnight
and it's not to you
in fact, a lot of me has absolutely
nothing to do with you
the links of my chains are dwindling
that's all me old friend
all me

simple peace
lazy behind the left side of my chest
it resides
the pain you created is becoming what it was meant to be
a memory
the past

                                                           ­                                I'm saying it's becoming easier and I
                                                                ­                           mean that
                                                            ­                               I hate to admit this
                                                            ­                               but
                                                             ­                              there are moments ( most inconvenient)
                                                   ­                                        when you arrive to haunt me

nonetheless
simple peace
I like it.

                             I hope you have found it too
                             then again
                             you were already
                             well on your way