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whatever happens
it's what's happening

the things you said and
the way it stings
when I'm all alone and
the doors are closed
the rain rips holes
in the night shroud
I'm stuck in the same-old
same-old way
I never thought that I'd say to you
the things that I said
that I meant
and for what

afraid of calling
just to hear your voice
but the message says everything
and I've heard it before
the colors bleed
like thoughts
like memories
washed out with the bits of yesterday
I can't keep anything safe
but I try and I
watch the dust accumulate
on what was new to you

I rode around
in your American car
and the road passed us under
and the trees passed us by
when all the poems that I wrote before
I wrote for you
and because of you
and there they are
to remind me
of what never was
and never would be
home