Now you make me feel like a sinner
for crimes that i never commit

you sneak to escape the crime scene
while i bury feelings that wont be admitted

Not much of a Bonnie and Clyde
just a lousy singer chanting lies

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭
𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬
𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

I want you to ruin my life
and maybe yours at the same time

I want you to tell me you love me
even if you don't
because for a moment it could be nice
to just be in the wrong

We could sit amongst the rubble
talk about the meaning of it all
as if any of it matters

I want you and I know I shouldn't
I'm just searching for validation
while you look for an exit sign

But, maybe it'd be nice
to set it all on fire and fall for a line

David Foster Wallace

I thought today about time. If I could travel in it. No one would ever be dead to me. I could visit the past the future, then it came crashing down. They would never be dead. But one day, I would be.

In the stillness,
Your presence lingers with me,
even when you're gone.

There is a hint of warmth back in the air,
And the mourning doves are back to mourn me,
Cooing their familiar song
Because every spring they return
They no longer recognize me.
The gray-feathered birds eat seeds in the yard
And perch on rooftops and tree branches
To cry out in sorrow.
They cry because another version of me is dead.