i guess my blurry vision can still focus on our blurred conversations
and every time another bottle smashes
i'll think of the way your lips made me crash my brain against my skull over and over
because sometimes when i think too much,
i wish i'd never looked you in the eye at all
only for selfish reasons,
like the inevitable day we go in opposite directions.
you are more than a tongue or a hand holding a guitar pick
you have made more of an impression on me than i have in mud with boots on
and i suppose it is scary to think maybe i'll always be pressed like a flower in a heavy book
with the way your smile made me feel