It's the first of the month and end of the year now.
As I lay in my bed and think about how,
Everything that I've held on to just keeps on slipping away.

So I'll keep holding to these: letters and keepsakes.
And all of the car rides, missed stares, and mistakes.
Anything at all to keep me from falling off the edge.

So if you're getting lonely, I'll come by to see you.
And if you can wait, I've got lots to tell you.
Flower in hand and heart bleeding on my sleeve.

And if I'm choking on words, it's because I don't have the right ones.
Not in a million poems, stories, or love songs.
Oh well, I guess I'll just leave here like it was.