be careful what you

I want us to go back. undo this. maybe I'll do the same things, but I want you to be unaffected by them. this is like one of those bad dreams or fairy tales where your wish comes true but it's not what you really wanted, after all.

I get it. I've learned my lesson. now please, genie/fairy/God, fix it. I want everyone to be okay again. I want them to not have to worry, or cry, or feel as helpless as I did. was that the lesson? I think it was. it's all I've learned, that you hurt everyone when you hurt yourself.

I've stopped, so now this has to. snap your fingers and make it go back to when there was trust and laughter and uncomplicated love.

last

you will not fall, you will float. out of the fog and into daylight, feeling warm and alive again, and not just for the blood pulsing down your fingers. you will feel. no more numbness. isn't that a comforting thought?

good. keep thinking it as you swim, up out of the cold. think of how close you are, to the last and the easiest thing you will ever do.

but it's too late!

the last train
will pull out of the station
five minutes before you set down your book
and consider meeting me
by then i'll be watching the country slip away from the back window-
a book in my hands?
identical to the one that you
picked back up
when you decided that I was bluffing
when I said I'd leave.
and I will be halfway across the state
when you finish the book
frown at the emptiness of our apartment
and pick up the phone

edgy

all of these songs about being close to the edge, those stories where you are getting close to the metaphorical "edge", looking over the "edge", afraid to fall over the "edge".

the edge of what? of your seat? of the stage you're on? of a cliff? I've been on all of these things, and the closer I got the better. it's exhilarating being on the edge, ready to fall or jump or run away because you can do it all.