(...)
sit down next to me and answer all these questions, and i wrote them down for you. that may be, but i keep asking them every time i see you ... hoping i remember a different answer you gave me.
i wake up this morning, and every conversation is harder to recall since we only meet in undefined time. you know? (subconscious comebacks and nightmare asides)
but, boy, i went to bed last night, and there you were. the top of my bucket brimming with memories and how i may have said something wrong.
on the phone that night, the last time i talked to you... "did you cry?" -a little bit, did you?- "all the way to work." -baby why?- "i didn't want you to leave." and i didn't want to leave. what i would have given to have not gotten in that car, not left the side of that crumpling street. but i keep saying these things again and again, as though it will change something, as if we didn't cry together.
now, all the time we have together is spent with eyes shut and elusive circumstances. ('it all seemed so real! you ever had a dream like that?')
i know we can't stop smiling at each other, and we've both got things to do. but i'll meet you there tonight, in that wide open space with the dark and that light, my eyes will be closed and i'll be laughing with no words to call you.
