You said I could take it back; sometimes I wish I had. I would like to be with you, but I can’t do what you want me to. I would like to stay in love with you, but I can’t do what we want me to. I would like to live right here with you, but I can’t do what I want me to. Two days and a trip across the Atlantic sky was all it took for me not to be able to reply those words to you. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” You think I’ve fallen behind. It’s not true –you’re just not mine. But if I had listened to you I’d be living in Wisconsin, taking care of your parents, never wondering about the world outside of me, but maybe I’d be more happy. You picked out our house by the bay, green shutters and bay windows, where you captured my soul that day, by the bay. Soccer fields five minutes away where our boys would play by the bay. Where I tore my quadricep after the great contretemps by the bay. Never went back to those dorms. You took me home. Living in Wisconsin, taking care of your parents, never wondering about the world outside of me, but, oh! I was so happy. You said I could take it back; sometimes I wish I had. You said I could take it back; most times I wish I had.

Self-righteous bitch, thinking you can solve it, crying in the ambulance, cause you agreed to call it. Self-righteous prick, thinking you should solve it, crying in the station, cause you’re not the centre of attention. Don’t tell me to talk to you; the words I say you spit out to everybody. “Oh come over for a tea, I’ve got a story, I’ll tell you all about Kashi. Please stay, please stay. Oh! I made dinner too. Oh, please don’t go, I need a hug. Can I have a hug, Can I have a hug?” Self-righteous bitch, you can’t solve it, It’s been me since I was six. You can’t solve it. I swallowed a bottle, jumped into the water, biked down a cliff; you can’t solve it. You and I are not same cloth –I know, I know. But I have a list of books. I will grow, I will grow. I can get stronger; I will show, I will show. And if you still don’t love me. I will go, I will go. When I was six I put my stomach on the seat of a swing, I started rotating. The sides were constricting my ribs. I couldn’t move – I didn’t want to. I knew I had sinned, so that night in the shower, twenty minutes of Our Father’s to the coldest water. Dust revisited:[] Yesterday, I kissed the closet door ten times. And I couldn’t speak two words without a rhyme. I felt like I was tripping; I was in the sky. I couldn’t think of a thing that wasn’t alright. But, that’s in the high. Yesterday, I caught myself staring at the trees. They looked so lovely flying there within the breeze. I wanted to lie on the sidewalk and let them watch over me, But I’m told in Japan, that’s a bit エッチ. But, that’s in the high. I want in the high. Yesterday, I couldn’t breathe (I know what else is new?) and I started thinking, “How many guys have held my ribs as I tried to breathe again and again?” I counted to five before I could count to three and I thought, “something’s definitely missing in me…” but I know, I know.

you can get through it you know you've felt like this before

When you are asleep, I’ll steal your seed, throw it away there deep –see? We don’t have to worry. When I am asleep, you’ll steal my beauty, throw it away there deep –see? We don’t have to worry. All the branches on the trees, bend down to wrap us, make us part of its trunk, and, oh, can’t you see? You are delusional with love. I don’t care if you’re not sorry, I forgive you. And with or without your support I will continue. See, the truth is that we never know what we’ve been through till we pause and cough it out. I cough it out. All the buds on the trees, also beginning, in us reflecting, and, oh, can’t you see? You are delusional with love. Your hands weather and chip; my hair glimmers and twists. You took my hand and led it to trees. You made wraps and tea. We drank it with magical things. You held my hips so I would not drift. I swear you glowed a halo above me. Philosophy at nineteen: Honors Program, Sebastian Barry, Leah Presper and Aristotle. We studied the splitting of souls. I thought it all quite saccharine. I always judge before I live. I never had a love that was bigger than me, to soak up the sidelines, see directly. I never had a love so naïve. I lit fairy lights and promised myself to you. You told me you wouldn’t leave unless I asked it three times of thee. My dress was pink, your hair was down, our silhouettes on castle grounds. Grass to our waists, and the teens from the estate, shouted “Fuckin hippies!” You blessed my body and I baptised you. When I kissed you it was holy. Now my hands weather and chip; your hair glimmers and twists. You packed sheep skins, we soon forgot about them. We lay each other down on rocks and spiders. The trees, they bowed down: reverence. The leaves jumped about, joyous. The boys of Bohermore asked me to kiss you. The children on the Tuam couldn’t tell who was who. (asked us who was who) Tanya passed by the living room and couldn’t tell me from you. Two thousand years ago, philosopher said this would be true. All the branches on the trees, bend down and take shape around our body, and, oh, can’t you see? I am delusional with love. All the leaves on the trees, pretty and curious bend down to watch us, and, oh, can’t you see? I am delusional with love. When you are asleep, I’ll steal your seed, throw it away there deep –see? We don’t have to worry.