I dream about you.
Do you know how rare that is, how taxing, how emotional?
Or do you just expect me to be here, always, waiting for you
Refusing to let my life move on when we both know
We both know that there’s nothing left of you
That it’s time to let you go.
 
No matter how many ships we could sail together
How many stars we wished upon
How many times we said goodbye, hello, goodbye
Is there really anything left, is there, is there
All my memories of you disappeared, replaced by new memories
Of a life without you in it.
 
“Do you still sing?” the cat asks the bird
“Even though you
You’re stuck in a cage where I can’t get to you, get to you”
The bird doesn’t reply
He doesn’t have the will to anymore
He doesn’t have the will, the will
 
Is it a bad thing to say I don’t miss you?
Even though how much we’ve been through, so much

And all I can do is see you sometimes
Sometimes, growing fainter, fainter
Only in dreamland?
“Will you still sing,” the cat asks the bird
“Even though I don’t want you to?”
 
Can you hear me
Can you hear, hear me
In dreamland?
"Can you still sing?" the cat meows comfortably, bored.
 
And all I can do is wonder where the words went
And realize that they were there all along.

"Don't lie.  There are no lies here."
Outforth bursts a song like no other.
It’s only a simple phrase I need to say
Even though I just wasted two hundred and forty-four words
On a cause that was lost awhile ago.

The tendons in my fingers stretching,
Stretching like they never have before, because there’s no form here
There’s no will, want
Assumption, annihilation, amplification
Do you wear flannel still?
Or are you stuck in hospital scrubs?
I think I’ve exhausted all my questions.

"I give up," the cat states, walking off, tail swinging in the air.
The bird sits quietly
And sits
And waits
And says nothing.
 
Three hundred and sixty-three words now
And all I meant to say was goodbye.