is it time to leave

he paid attention to her fake air drumming
and took notice to her spacing out
he paid attention to her little humming
when her favorite song came about
perhaps the world was her fear
and the sunlight didn't calm her down
but his hands on the steer
the world became just a town 
one huge mess in her mind
turned into an abstract painting 
he became the artist unsigned
while she was uncomplaining 
maybe one hand doesn't fit with another
and things aren't meant to be 
but she cared for him unlike any other
and that was a guarantee

This poem is about: 
Me

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