Kind of sad, how I get along… I should be crying and instead I write a song. You know I know this piano can only hide me for so long. Still, I sit at this sorry bench, drinking (sinking), thinking every time you mentioned your discontent. Every dream we had, I’ve come to resent…but you’re spinning circles through my mind; how your hands fit in mine, the way you dance, our wasted time…
How I loved nervous breakdowns on your lawn…una poquito piquito in the backseat and you’re gone. And I’ll deny I ever tried to share my confusion with the fusion of our lips. Lies are spinning through my mind; how your hands fit in mine, the way you danced away the time…I could pull you back and kiss you. Or I could pretend that I won’t miss you.
…Damn that suitcase by the door, I’m more than willing to spend more time with all that baggage of yours. Why don’t we just go and unpack, make some lunch and remember what it feels like to laugh?
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