For empty hands

My words poured out onto your feet, they poured out to you.
You kept a hushed tone and no, you did not run.
But we walked away,
simultaneously knowing this was for the best.
For the best reason we are not yet aware of,
but it's coming,
just as this new season is briskly beginning to chill our skin.
And underneath these goosebumps,
we are stitched with the shredding string that tied us together.
But it was not nearly strong enough,
and we fell apart like a worn sweater.

For fucking up again,

My words are erased out of my head
and bled out my heart.
That is what you do to me.

Hands clench against my sheets
and heat rushes into my face.
This is what you do to me.

Stripping me bare of the tough skin I've grown into,
destroying my frailties with a single word.

The ice in your voice trying to be covered by a faint dusting of care
can't fool me.
I'm no fool for you anymore.

I can fight against what you do to me.

For the good people out there,

These streets,
they lead in me in a direction
never known,
never quite what i expect.

The pavement slightly mists
as my feet keep moving me
on and on and on.

The lines dividing
one way
and the next
attracts me,
so I stand in the center
and as I look,
I don't know whether I'm looking forward or behind myself.

But with squinted eyes
and a knotted stomach
I see why this journey has kept me going
for such a long time.

And just seeing that one face
at the end of the road
reminds me it was all worth the while.

For stained shirts and teeth,

its not as easy as it seems,
you just like playing games with me.

i run
i twist
but you pull harder on my broken wrist

im back into your head
your into mine

and even with the fight im putting up
you find your own way
to surprise me

every minute
of every hour
of every day

we're back to where it all began