remember that time
I played your music instead of sleeping to keep
me from screaming at the flecks of dirt inside my mind
that remind me more of myself than anything
your music reassured me that I was alive and able to breathe
in and out, slowly, to the notes of the song
to the notes of the song that reminded me
that I was worth more than a boy
I'm worth more than a boy that uses me just
to have a laugh and tells me I'm hot when I am ice cold
and hiding in alaska because I don't belong in summer
when he's there looking for more snowflakes to burn
you shouldn't burn snowflakes,
all they want to do is fall quietly
they want to fall but they don't want anyone to see how
they fall or what they're falling on, becuase they
fall into oblivion before you can notice
well usually they do, but sometimes a boy will catch them and burn them
so he can laugh and make himself smile the only way he knows how to.
it's hard to make yourself smile if you're him and don't understand
the nature of snowflakes.
but your music will pull me down a road
i'll walk along it happy to forget about the tears I had just cried
and I'll stop at all the potholes admiring how they line the road
and all the grass growing in the little cracks
the yellow lines breaking them all up
did you know that roads are like arms?
they carry suffering with them and are
scarred in ways that is both natural and unnatural
they're essential to you and I's relationships
yes, our relationship is built up slowly by roads and arms
inching us closer and closer until we are too close to touch
and all I can do it look at your face and wish that
you'd noticed how the roads are like arms
and how they'd both made our relationship as real as it can be
(which is to say, as real as my heart or as real as your
gorgeous eyes that I can see as I stand this close)
I wish I wasn't this close, I wish I was close
enough to touch, to hold you in my arms and kiss away your
tears that are sure to be there sometimes, maybe
you could even hold me? you did say that
you were better than the boy who burns snowflakes
but that doesn't mean I am better than just a snowflake
that needs to make that boy happy before he does something
stupid to himself and I blame myself
perhaps it is best if I let him? it's only one snowflake
among one million, what do I matter compared to the life of one
boy who's life has gone terribly wrong and the only release he
has is burning snowflakes that aren't worthy of kisses?
besides
it's not like you would
really miss the way
the roads and arms built up the hope that
you could someday love me because
we both know that's not the case
because you're somewhere far away playing your guitar
and thinking of beautiful girls who resemble
the fairies and mermaids of disney movies
while I only resemble an ugly stepsister who
tries and tries to get the guy
but falls short because the
shoe is too short and she is too selfish
to even care that it belongs to another.
and you, you are peter pan
you are everyone's dream
why would you even look at me?
this writing is rambling
it means almost nothing but the words keep coming
and I can't stop them because I don't know what to say
so I say everything.
and I am a rose, but who likes roses?
roses have thorns, and they die
dandelions are beautiful, and they fly away
roses are nothing compared to all those beautiful dandelions that surround me.
now please if you remember anything about me,
from the way I breathe to the way my perfume smells
or the shade of my eye or the taste of my lips against yours,
remember that roads are like arms,
and that is what makes them beautiful enough to have held up our relationship against the tornado.
remember my love, that roads are like arms.