you could tell me anything
tell me that you love it
or you can't stomach it
it won't make a difference now
as my imagination is gluing feathers to
anything and trying to call it an
angel

sometimes i want to find you
and tell you everything since the last time we talked
sometimes i just want to clean my room
sometimes the clock turns 11:11 and
i
wish
that i could paint you in those feathers
that i could grab the knife by the handle instead of the blade
that i believed the witness stand unspoken apologies
that i never made it out of you alive

26 years is a long time
i can't tell if i love it
or can't stomach it