I just want to go back in time.

And live in all the places I felt like dying.

Because fearing death and meeting it are two completely different shindigs.

I want to go back to the places I lived,
The people I loved,

And meet them all over again.

I’ve never moved into a new house,
But I’d like to think it’s as simple as saying “hello” after years of saying “hey.”

Love is a quick train,

And if you don’t hear it coming,
You’ll miss it on a dime.

I just hope you’ll come back around one day.

They say if you love something,
Then leave it.

It will return in time.

But with all these messages,
All the empty conversations,
All these thoughts and feelings,

I’d kick myself for leaving something so valuable behind in an old house.

Sunsets and violent car crashes are known to be thieves of our attention,

Yet mine tends to veer off the beaten path.

It gets distracted by poems and the way words make love to each other.
It gets distracted by lips and how well I can remember how they set my soul on fire.
It gets distracted by pictures and how the thousand words scream at me of what I’m missing.
It’s like it’s mocking me.

I daydream of one day owning a nice house,
And all the memories I wish to place within it.

If I could take the past,
And move it to the future,
I would.

Uproot it from what at the time seemed like a hell hole,
And put some pearly gates around it.

I just wish I could have the things I once had back.
And I wish the things I had wanted me back, too.

It’s hard to live in a future that you so desperately want to escape.

I lived a part of my life where I didn’t actually do much living.
And now,
I’m dying to go back.

The past is always prime real estate for a kid who can’t even make it out of the neighborhood.