"i never said that!"

It's been months and, I'm still waiting. You've got a new relationship and a great date for Prom and I'm. still. waiting. Hoping one of these days your alarm will go off and you'll realize even though I was nothing but wrong, we were always just right. That all the terrible times, they made us reach for light. That people look at us and they're on our side.

  Won't you join in the fight?

We were the bindings on a favorite book of a library shelf, worn out but holding on for dear life because we were in charge of holding the world, together.
I've got my own dogeared chapters but they won't go down on paper the way most authors would like them too because if we could put our story in ink, we could end world hunger.

Hunger for food and hunger for love. Hunger to know there's something out there worth fighting for.

Aren't we worth fighting for?

The blinds are covered in dust and they're turned down so the window glass and me can't have conversation. I miss good conversation and I miss needing to lift those blinds so I could stare at the moon and think about you and tell you I saw your eyes dancing in the night sky again and watch for airplanes to pass with passengers flying their way to better places than they've been. 

The window never did anything wrong, but since you're gone I don't feel like I have much to say to him. He's like a mirror I don't want to face, cause I can't take what's looking back alone. White framed hanging and waiting for someone to notice the cracks that I should have fixed last summer. but I was so selfish with my time then. I didn't know minutes were shared on a family plan or that I used too many borrowed days.

I loved you in too many ways.

There were waterfalls and cliffs. Excuses and explanations. The doorknob always seemed to turn slower to the world but faster to our hands. I never wanted to leave your side because shooting stars only last so long and somewhere over the ocean there's a missing plane and how can something just fall off the maps? I never wanted a phone call telling me extraordinary was missing. I held your hand as long as I could because tomorrow was just a joke we told again and again.

I never understood the punchline.

D.I. sells trophies and more than once I've thought about buying you an award for the greatest just woke up hair and the worst just woke up smile. You have too much sunshine in your hands to dance on the pier after curfew and maybe that's why we always got caught. I led the cops straight to your door when you told me you had the world figured out; 

no one can have the world figured out.


I could reach out and touch the horizon but in Alpine my hands will only ever hit the mountains. They make a beautiful frame for a picture you know like the back of your hand but you redid the color scheme and the frame doesn't match the wallpaper and the picture doesn't match the theme. I don't want to be the mountains in a room for an businessman but I don't want you conquering wall street without me.

 Money never was your thing and that's not to say you didn't have it, you just didn't budget. You didn't plan out ahead so you wouldn't be left on the sidewalk the day before the wedding hoping to pay for the honeymoon you already bought on the credit cards you should never have used.

Maybe living paycheck to paycheck is easier than crumbling security. I guess you'd know better than I. 

That must be why you're so fond of street shows and vendors and anything besides that bloody museum I tried to talk you into in New York City. I never could see the sidewalk music for more than pretty. You saw deep sea fishing and ice skating in Alaska on every note of every harmony of every song you'd never heard played just that exact way before. You said the straggly beards and the alcohol tainted voices opened your eyes to the mask the radio made for the masquerade.

I held on for too many days.