I cup my hand to my face
and think of a better place to be
than here

my bones feel old, soul feels old and I'm sick of being told what's right

I just want to know
I just want to know.

It feels like I'm sinking in this deep water
grabbing onto my memories and searching for
you
who knew that I would like the taste
of water in my lungs

it tastes like things not said,
a cigarette shared on a porch and a book given back to me
before it had the chance to even be read