we're building stories out of moments like these

~

she wears sweatshirts of colleges she's never been to to pretend she has a future.

she's convinced anyone but herself.
you gotta admire the determination cause she still keeps trying.
her cellphone is always to her ears, missing living instead of a call.
she's dying to fit in, and i'm living to fit into her life.
she's got neck cramps from always looking up, i suppose that's better than the sore back i have from always bending to make her happy.
someone should take her head out of the clouds, but she looks so much more alive like this.
she always could turn on more than just lightswitches and bad friends.
she could always tell the good from the bad. i don't know how i've made the cut.
i swear i've seen her somewhere before. not a bar or a nightclub, those weren't intimate enough for her.
more like a fable or a story. something too good not to be fiction.
a princess born with a silver spoon in her hand, but she just uses it to dig her own grave by being with me.
i can't get sick of her voice.. she keeps talking.
she's wearing out the latest politics to look interested in living past 40.
she'd be more convincing if she didn't switch sides so much.
switching sides, like the bed she slept in. i was there a few times, she would wake up and i'd be gone.
you just don't understand my busy li(f)e the way she does.
anyways, they still haven't figured out sirens just give you time to hide better.
windowsills, balconys and porches never look the same without her. then again i never go near them without it being for her.
"how's it feel to be born without guts, a conscience, or a spine?"
whatever, 26 years and i'm still fine.
it could have been worse, born with my head up my ass. that just came later.
we walk anywhere and everywhere but where we're supposed to be.
throw me a line cause i'm dying to get hooked. i'll take the bait.
i believe her over the lies, she's too good for anyone she's met.
i fingerscrossed hope she keeps making an exception for me.
it seems like a sniper shot my hopes down when i was(n't) looking.
sometimes it doesn't feel requitted but i was never one to quit in the first place.
we are something out of the movies, diner hangouts.
mapping the way out on a truckstop napkin just to be that close to her fingertips/lips.
we are the secrets along the streets you stay in to avoid at night.
we're hushed "i love yous" meant to be heard by everyone.
her hands fit just right into mine, i swear my shoulders were made to hold her head up.
now home is so clos(ur)e and it can't even touch her.
when i'm in my house it isn't a home, my only home is her arms.
sleep escapes me cause i'm too busy catching her.
if you lived this way, you wouldn't want to ever sleep, either.

anyways, for real. if i don't get harry potter saturday i am going to cry serious tears. edit - oops today isn't friday.