when someone's blame turns around
and points it's finger at you, don't back down
stare it in the face--
smile;
blame is a beautiful thing that likes
to shift in the inky blackness of deceit

i feel as though you should know
that the falling was a beautiful blur
but i guess i was hoping that
you'd catch me in the end

we were driving down one of those stupid
streets where all the houses look the same
and you looked over and asked me
"are you okay?"
i think i just shrugged it off and said
"yeah, i'm fine"
but beneath the veneer
(which i think you knew was there)
i was coming apart at the seams
heart apart from body, mind up in space
but then you earnestly asked me again and
truth tumbled from my lips like a prayer

i could get over you
easily
climb up over my feelings for you
like stepping over an anthill
whilst humming my favorite song
i could pull you off of my thoughts
the way my ratty old sweatpants
slide down my legs at 2 a.m.
i am content with becoming a wallflower
yet again when you tire of my blue eyes
and the way the sun shines
straight through the middle of them
but i just want you to look at me
one last time the way you did when
the "october sky" end credits rolled
just one more time so i can feel the
electricity of locked eyes in a crowded room
look at me again
make me a garden of wildflowers
in the middle of june

he told me once that my hair
reminded him of the mid-afternoon sun
streaming in through fogged up windows
during the january thaw
he said that my eyes looked like a
blurry sky the day before a summer storm
and that he swore he could hear the
lightning crackle while i slept
we are all idiots blinded by the idea that
love can prevail above all things
and when he talks to be like that
i think i may just be a lunatic

eyes speak all of the words
we cannot bring ourselves to say

when i see him the world
somehow crumbles and rebuilds
itself within a matter
of seconds and i am left
holding my breath in my hands
conjuring up ways to speak