You saw the nightmares alive in my eyes.
You saw the terror, the wonder, the magic all die.
I couldn’t tell if you had burned them or broken all of the promises my devils had spoken.
That fear, that beauty, that moment in time,
it was my wanderlust, and backbone, and spirit, and sign.
And I told you, I told you that I wanted it back, but it was
too late to grab them out from the black.
So I tipped up that bottle and I swallowed my guilt, and prayed to the room as it started to tilt.
Then we gathered my insecurities and left with your plans
of mountains and divinity and lovers holding hands.
My breathing was shaky, my eyes full of tears. You held me and loved me and wiped away those years.
They put signs on my back, saying “broken, but here”.
And I reached for the wheel, though I was too drunk to steer.
The crashing, the glass, the slurred, frightened screams.
I wonder if smoke can freeze, and if it can,
I’ll call it dreams.