the list of things to complete;
the watered down beer and tv;
in a language you can’t speak

the sun reflects off metal skies;
where the suit is life and demise;
the endless act of rolling eyes

in a room where she will lay;
one day still and unafraid;
you will fall but you won’t stay.

cause what is life if you can’t choose;
who is right to be abused?
who is right to be with you?

ruined songs and worn out books;
dusty journals that you mistook;
to be read aloud.

with all her secrets laid out front;
as a gift that she still does;
want you to keep.

no matter how hard you try to fall in love, it will not;
be the same.

cause once that box is ticked; you’ll see your growing list; and how is that
appropriate?

watercolours in her eyes;
dust and gravel on your mind;
the road is not as picturesque- as you would think;
cause if it was you’d be the one
playing to another song
on the bridge where you got drunk
with the family that was once.
but now you’re home; alone

home is not where you have known;
now a street closer to what;
you have tried to avoid.

a bed for two, a heart for one.
a broken love; a sinking sun.
a cloud of smoke soon to be loved.

loveless nights of drawn out fun;
hardly remembered through all the fog;
through all the thoughts.

a promise you once had kept
to yourself and all your friends;
proves lost and dead.

no matter how hard you try to stay on track, you stray far
from the route you could be on

but who am I, to tell you what is life and what is right,
i'm just a dying light

sticks placed upright in the sand,
shells picked and kept to represent
an isle that she’s been dreaming of; and she was close.
instead she’s changing her whole life
moving town, and greeting the night
in a house with whom she thought would change for her
but now they’re home; alone.

a blank white sheet is definite;
a painted mind is no accident;
a life spent through mistaken eyes;
is a life spent proving your own lies.