the cigarettes i won't ever smoke
and i am all the records you won't get around to,
every dangling thread glimmering in false hope.
our days are fast and so surreal,
our nights are wrapped in cold
the midnight sky is laced with our breath,
every story we've ever told.
you hit me like a heart attack,
a storm they couldn't forecast;
you were a brick to the back of my head,
our love was sudden, fast.
you might as well be miles away,
a face that i never would see.
it's been a long time, i think about it a lot,
a long time since you've talked to me.
our ghosts still hover, nightly,
beneath the lights that line my street.
it's nice to know our past selves are happy,
even if our futures decide not to meet.
in a year, you'll be the letters ive left on the table,
unfinished for fear of reply;
and ill be the birds overhead,
waiting for you in the sky.