i see the trees sway and silhouette the dusk
and breathe my air
and it feels like there is something i’m missing

i’ve been wasting away down here,
reading the news and watching videos
and keeping away from myself
i guess i don’t know what i have to say

each day is flows like milk and
between each moment are prayers for
the future and i’m so ******* scared

when i feel like my feet are made of lead
and the drip of time aches with every tick
and nobody is even looking at each other
it’s easier to imagine when the fruit will blossom

when we start living like its a movie with
bokeh city lights crying in the rain
seeing a stranger across the room
feeling the pull of your hand behind me
sun beams on a hungover morning

and i know it really doesn’t make any sense
but i’m starting to think that we’re
never going to feel the way we want to

we’re never going to see those trees at dusk
and feel like we deserve it

and someday i am going to die and
my last thought will be if there was
really anything more.