Weighed down in Gramercy Park. Thoughts slowing to a single anchored feeling. Sometimes home is just an idea, not a place.
Before we met I wasn't sure how my mind worked, or if it really did anymore. I used to sleep on my heart in hopes it would just go numb. For some reason you feel like something on display out of reach. Something that has finally been brought down for me to touch. Someone too fragile for these shaking, clumsy hands.
The black clouds overhead will ultimately provide showers. So lets be the trail of gasoline, taunting the lit match.
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