I'm Just Out Of Chances

Go ahead and wipe your feet on my dreams as you enter. Pull the chain to a light that hasn't worked in years, and climb those creaking stairs that lead towards who I used to be.

Welcome to my childhood bedroom. A place that eventually became armor that I could no longer wear.  There is a chest in the corner. Crack it open and watch as it breathes deep, almost like it has come back to life.

Sit there on the floor barely breathing in all the dust dangling in the air and notice that none of these stories are ever finished... because that's who I am. Never closing the door on a fucking thing. Never jotting down the last period. Never signing off.

Mind full of thoughts, trapped by a body that can't achieve rest. Before I met you I made a religion out of leaving others behind. Keep tabs on me or be forgotten. Sometimes I miss feeling down all of the time... like it was some close friend that moved away.

I'm the Reason for Participation Ribbons

If this heart is a hand grenade then every single word you said pulled the pin. Truth be told...  as soon as they passed your lips my shoulders began to shudder at the thought of your thighs pressed against mine.  Here's to hope playing the role of my best man, trying to convince me that you didn't mean it.  Just as fast as this all began, it all came to a halt (please understand this is all over).  As we're standing here exchanging excuses every single blade of grass is coming into focus... not in a slow type of giving up... more like a dam giving way all at once.

Betrayal isn't the right word, it's just the one that rolls off of my tongue with precision in this moment. You never really understand the weight of your words until they hit someone in the chest, and by then it's far too late.

Gun Over My Heart, Hand To My Head

Check the glove compartment for a passport full of stamps from all of the places that I've missed you in. Cornfields over coasts from now on. Nothing will ever feel as much like home as a sunset with the windows down on I-88. Pulling over for no reason other than infatuation.

Cold hearts get hot nights between the sheets, or either side of the lines we've drawn. Forget hushing headboards. Here's to the tennis elbow from being on top and the rug burn from you below.