A glass of water, twenty sit ups I like the way you eye me like candy yet avoid me like a time bomb five minutes until detonation six minutes to figure out what to say when I am near you
A walk around the neighborhood, one house with it's lights on Some people say “I love you” You say “Go to sleep” they mean the same thing but I'm not tired
A crooked chin, thirty minutes late You only talk to empty chairs and darkness You only love things from 1978 I could be your ghost if you want me to
A tear stained face, two parents who don't care “It gets a little lonely, pretending to want to be alone” I only get up early on days you say you'll be there Why does it always end up that I am on my own? Always?
A calendar from last year, three bruises on my neck What is your favorite type of silence? Mine is the kind when everything that can be said has been spoken The kind where no one has an excuse anymore No more secrets