Tell me it's not the end of the story,
Tell me I can love again.
Black tree branches through our arms
And the January rain upon our upturned faces.
We knelt with paper and erasers
Rewriting the samesamesame story.
Again and again exploring our guts
Looking for loose and dead ends,
Holding our vacancies.
Alien atoms through our fingers and feet.
The neurons firing off
Always stuck on the wrong equation.
The missing math in our love
Left us empty handed.
Slight of hand,
Car doors and the sound of your street at 3am
That some girls are for company,
Some are for keeping,
But mostly people just leave.