I know I shouldn't be sad that my name doesn't leave your mouth anymore.
Or that your head isn't cluttered with me like mine is with you.
I know this shouldn't matter because all we were was an unfinished thought,
but you took the hope from my grip and tossed it over the bridge on your way home.

I probably shouldn't write of you either,
because I didn't even know you long enough to know your middle name.
But there was something about the way you looked in the dark,
under the natural light of the early morning sky that made me crave you.

The way you held my hand in your white Honda,
and told me that you loved where I lived because you could see the stars.
You told me you wished you could get away, from it all, as you sang.
And I smiled.

What else could I do?

There are some songs I just can't listen to
Without thinking of you
The cold nights on your back deck
With no lights other than our lit cigarettes

I think about the time I was nervous sitting next to you
Even though it was the millionth time I had sat next to you in that exact spot
But this time we sat it was different than the other 999,999 times
Because this time was when I realized I was in love with you

I told you I thought about kissing you, and it was silly
And you laughed and told me you loved me.
When I said goodbye to you that night,
It was different than the other 999,999 times I said goodbye to you.

You looked into my eyes and it was the very first time,
I ever saw in someone's face the way I felt about them.
And we kissed. And you held me.
And nothing will ever be more perfect.

We are concave,
folding in on ourselves,
trying to find the other half,
the pieces that seem to be missing.

We are lost,
on a dark road outside,
no sense of direction,
but a sense of missing home.

We are scared,
of what's to come,
what has come,
what is coming?

We have hope.
That the hole will be filled.
The streetlights to turn on.
To be okay with what came.

The leaves are falling and so is our faith,
the world seems to be moving at an alarming pace.
The wind blew me away from you,
And took with it everything that I knew.

All I ever wanted was anything you would give me,
You opened doors that I could never see.
When it started to get cold, you vanished.
Any place I called home, I was banished.

But you see, the winter will do that to you.
**** you dead and dry, without a clue.
It will bite your heart and drain the blood,
Breathing in the crimson flood.

On an abandoned bank of snow, you will lie alone.
After it all sinks in, you turn to stone.
You will have sunken in completely by the end of the cold wave,
And in the spring, flowers will grow from your icy grave.