Feverfew Goodbye Blue Monday
It’s snowing on a Monday as I am driving home. And the
guilt begins to creep up from the ones I’ve left alone.
And on this road their bodies still hang up in the air,
between the birch’s branches where I last left them
there. There are palm prints on my window from her hands
out in the cold. Now four years have gone by here and I
have gotten old. And you said yourself that I’m falling
towards the sun. Like I disguise myself to make you
forget I’m the one. Like this was just a trap I built and
you are just a game I won. But I don’t want to run. I
remember counting white beads as I sat in wooden pews,
where I laid down my confessions. And I said a prayer for
you because it’s harder in December. And it’s harder in
the cold. And it’s hard not to remember all the lies that
we have told late at night, shifting shape under
florescent light. The spray paint spelled “SALVATION,”
but I knew you wanted more. So I paint myself in blue
light. And I unlock all the doors because the city’s
getting smaller. And I don’t know where to go. And I
spent my only dollar hoping maybe you would know.
