and maybe you don't want me here.
and maybe I don't want you to want me here
and maybe I want you to want me so much that your heart hiccups
and maybe I drink to summon the courage to say it
and maybe I drink to find it
and maybe I loved you
and maybe I still do
and maybe I don't want you to see me broken
and maybe I want you to feel the shattered glass of my fingertips
and maybe we're doomed
and maybe we're destined
and maybe last night was different
and maybe we'll never change
and maybe we love like cancer
and maybe we walk like Egyptians
and maybe we just need time
and maybe we've had enough for tonight
and maybe we make bonfires on bunk beds
and maybe you turned your back to me
and maybe I left
and maybe you love the hawk with brown tipped wings
and maybe common sense isn't so common
and maybe we're newcomers
and maybe we never got there
and maybe those weren't tears, but stray raindrops
and maybe all my words are lyrical
and maybe my pen is tapping out my heartbeat
and maybe I watch you watch me
and maybe we jive like honey bees
and maybe I dream of daffodils and popcorn
and maybe we've lost faith in God and gravity and poetry
and maybe I ride my bike down the narrow streets downtown
and maybe I sunbathe on park benches
and maybe I fell from my tree house
and maybe I flew
and maybe our hands don't fit quite right
and maybe I tried to recreate snowflakes
and maybe I dance to the songs you hate
and maybe you know every word from my favorite poem
and maybe I cry when I think too much
and maybe I smile at every hair on your body
and maybe I loved you
then again, maybe not.
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
and maybe you don't want me here.
and maybe I don't want you to want me here
and maybe I want you to want me so much that your heart hiccups
and maybe I drink to summon the courage to say it
and maybe I drink to find it
and maybe I loved you
and maybe I still do
and maybe I don't want you to see me broken
and maybe I want you to feel the shattered glass of my fingertips
and maybe we're doomed
and maybe we're destined
and maybe last night was different
and maybe we'll never change
and maybe we love like cancer
and maybe we walk like Egyptians
and maybe we just need time
and maybe we've had enough for tonight
and maybe we make bonfires on bunk beds
and maybe you turned your back to me
and maybe I left
and maybe you love the hawk with brown tipped wings
and maybe common sense isn't so common
and maybe we're newcomers
and maybe we never got there
and maybe those weren't tears, but stray raindrops
and maybe all my words are lyrical
and maybe my pen is tapping out my heartbeat
and maybe I watch you watch me
and maybe we jive like honey bees
and maybe I dream of daffodils and popcorn
and maybe we've lost faith in God and gravity and poetry
and maybe I ride my bike down the narrow streets downtown
and maybe I sunbathe on park benches
and maybe I fell from my tree house
and maybe I flew
and maybe our hands don't fit quite right
and maybe I tried to recreate snowflakes
and maybe I dance to the songs you hate
and maybe you know every word from my favorite poem
and maybe I cry when I think too much
and maybe I smile at every hair on your body
and maybe I loved you
then again, maybe not.
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