I followed your footprints for nearly three miles
before I realized what I'd forgotten, and by then I was three miles away.
It was neat, clean, and all in order,
but that didn't make it any less wrong;
you know all I want to feel is right.

I keep having this feeling that you love me, but you're afraid to say it.
It's almost enough to make me free,
and I've been liberated before, but not the way I am now.
Everything's new at this point, which puts you in a different section of my life,
and my heart.
I still wish you wouldn't change who you are
just because I've changed who I am.

It's that moment of seeing something you never saw before,
or the second where you know your hand fits perfectly into his;
the way you sound when you sing,
or look when you dance,
or feel when you cry from happiness,
or eat a something you made yourself,
or clean your room,
or shower,
or fall in love.

The light coming through my window streaks the ***** floor,
but there's something in the floating dust
and the garbage on the carpet
that is infinitely
beautiful.