Scenes From When I Was In Love

We set the scene. An operating room in awe. Fluorescent lights. The bleach white walls. The tools and instruments look on in amazement, cause I'm just a beating heart on this white tile floor. This chest cannot contain me anymore.

This is the kind of passion that breaks ribs. This is the kind of hope that raises pulses. This is what it's like to be alive. A suburban street in July, and it feels like I'm drowning, but it's just the humidity.

It's just too damn hot in this car with the door ajar. Here's my thoughts. It's just the dome light. It's just the phone line. It's just her voice telling me, "It's alright." Just talk to me awhile, and, baby I'll be fine.

She sips her coffee once or twice, and knows she won't sleep well tonight. She holds her cigarette so tight. It's like she's holding onto life. She sips her coffee once of twice and knows I won't sleep well tonight. I'll rest my hand here on her thigh to let her know that I'm alive, and when she smiles, I'm alright, and when she smiles, I'm alright. (There's a tear in her blue jeans that her fingers won't stop tracing, and if you don't just leave it be, the wound would get deeper darling. It's this simplicity that keeps me breathing.)

A quiet dark bedroom, and for the next day or so, my sheets will smell of you. She's drifted off to sleep but I can't stop staring. Caught in the ins and outs of her breathing, and, baby we're so fleeting. We're beautiful, we're timeless, but God, are we fleeting. (And when she smiles, I could die.)