i could tell from your cold, conflicted hand that you’ll never let me in, you won’t let me win.
and i understand, you’re tired of my tirades. still, i won’t let you fade… ‘cause i know nothing else.
you could tell from the mackerel skies and the desperation eyes, how much trouble you’re in.
so what the hell, all the things you yell about won’t help yourself get out.
you could tell because i think too fucking loud, leaving nothing to dispel, nothing is withheld.
i could tell that the contrails near the sun didn’t speak to anyone except for you and me.
the shapes still lingering in your heart and mine are mismatched and misaligned. nothing meaningful to find.
though you could tell that in your waking dreams, nothing is quite as it seems, what’s the difference when you’re up
no one could tell from the crepuscular rays. five hundred fifty days never passed so faithfully.
diverge into the sea. just a few more sleeps until you’re free from me, until you’re free of me for good.
and the stars can’t tell what the fuck is going on,
no one can tell but time. but i can’t wait that long.