no matter how hard i try, i can't pin you down. i can't keep you all for myself, as selfish as wanting that is. you are sleeping only in my pictures now. (no longer my arms) what a long year, i say. i wonder what new york is thinking. you exhale and say nothing. (i miss your hands) your eyes match the weather when you speak, and your lips are chapped but beautiful as always. finally you speak. (your voice is so dissatisfied) look at all the wrapping paper leftovers. it's not even christmas yet and look at this fucking mess. i'm really sorry for the mess. hey don't apologize, it's alright. i didn't even put up lights this year. (you were always getting upset when i was around) don't cry. (you once told me to smile, and i really tried for you) i wish you weren't so honest sometimes. (and if you were reading my thoughts right now -- like you always do -- you would be so disappointed in me) i'm sorry that i always let you down.
all you see is empty walls. (and empty smiles) your shadows are misleading and disconnected. your insensitivities are always unlocking my thoughts. (you're still the only one who can do that, too) you could never be elevator music. you're so surreal sometimes, i tell you. what do you mean? i mean you're so abstract sometimes. i mean i always feel like i'm looking in. at least i'm not just closing the blinds on you. true.
you tuck in your shirt as if you're tucking in moonlight. i'll leave the light on.