Life Threw One Inconvenience At Me and Now I Live In a Treehouse
You're like the moon, with all your cathartic phases
And I'm like the stars
if each one was a mental cliff I lost my grip on;
There's just too many to count from the ground
Im watching paint dry
But it's all in black and white
And if you ever find the time,
You can admit that I was right
I forgot how good we both are
at not saying what's right in front of us
Im watching paint dry
But I'm not the artist
No, I've never been the artist
I'm a destroyer of healthy afflictions
And a collector of sensual manifestos
And trophies for all my attempts at accismus
They're like stars,
There's too damn many to count from this distance
Your voice was trying to be serious
But your eyes told me we were thinking the same thing
And the same time
If I'm such a martyr, then how did we get here?
My hands were pinned out to my sides
My fingers spread across a wooden dart board,
But your throws went between them everytime
You thought you were on top of everything
But then you looked at the scoreboard
You face turned ashen and I couldn't ignore
The look you gave me when you turned and walked away
There was nothing more to say
It's you who has the blood
dripping down your arms
I'm not sure what you made you think
A broken remote could've disabled these mental alarms
You're the one who brought it back to life,
So start digging before they find out
it was your hand on the knife
Let's be real,
Your plane was going down
And I'm no pilot,
But I couldn't watch it crash into this city
And besides, our love never made it
And this town only needs one tragedy
You're not "the one that got away",
You're the one that came back but forgot that you were ever gone
Yet still, I couldn't sit and watch
While your plane was clearly going down
Besides, this town never even saw us try
And they don't need another thing to grieve about
Even if your plane missed our city,
It would've run straight into the ground
And I would've been there, beside myself
With another piece of you to grieve about
Grief is just a form of love with nowhere to go
Grief is just a form of love with no place to go
Copyright © Matthew Bailey | Year Posted 2023
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