I miss what it feels like to fall into someone
at the end of the night, knowing the space
they exist around and collapsing into face
value’s frontier, final and endless enveloping fun.
Now the songs I understood alienate and drain
forcing the swallow and smile only to fill
thoughts of you and deny them ever still
motionless regret in spite of stale pain.
The soil watered with way too expensive beer
sweetened with desperate solace to consume
apathetic anger at such a pointless room
cheap, expected emptiness, dry and lazy cheer.
I don’t even ask if you remember me anymore
self-conscious, I forget the face I wear
wallowing and denying the beauty in a tear
but self-pity is such a boring chore.
Was it ever a thrill to arouse, to excite?
Did anyone watch how I would play
if only I knew my playmate would stay.
Counting our coy moments to a fated night
running with the same apprehension around
what seems to be psychic desperation
or delusion, direct me to shared elation
elevating love in universal sound.
Come find me, find me,
what should I do?
I want love — YOU.
please be real, please Be.
