You feel like a thief of time

taking all of what you don't deserve 

bright lights over street lamps

take away what makes them bright

 

He feels like night

like the welcome in the cold

it makes you sick

how nice this feeling is

 

When you cross ankles with him

He's not home

but home is just a place

youre not sure you belong anymore

 

When the walls angle in

hug you a little too close

you drag your nails on the paint

Hoping to leave some sort of mark

 

Claim this

what you one day will call past

what already calls you past

If only you could believe it

 

But your mother has calloused hands

your brother is alone

they still

need you

 

So you cross ankles with this boy

Hope carved on his face

and hope your face

is better at lying