Sleep

Folded quilts
On your old couch
Broken in
From years of use
Brown paisley print
And dark, chipped wood
Holds us together
Like ink in a pen

We press the buttons
Just to undo
The ones down your chest
Holding in your skin
Your hand is rough
But feels good
Like those heavy quilts
Pressed to my back

The weight feels fine
Makes me feel home
Your lights are dim
Your TV's on
I look good in the glow
You say with a smile
Your eyes keep with mine
Drawing lines into your temples

You push my hair
And pull my arms
Wrap them across my chest
You curl me in them
Your chin kisses my shoulder
Like a shadow on the wall
Wood planks just line
The room I love

Just kiss me one more time so slow, so slow
I don't want to go home just yet
Just pretend we'll stay awake a few more minutes
I'll lie, say I didn't mean to sleep in your bed

Let's just sleep in this southern state.

You Were Never My Fairy Tale

I listened to
The old cd
I stole from your car
One of our last nights
I took my things
From your old apartment
Left my ring
Beside your bed

I suppose a breakup is exactly that
Leaves you broken, trying to fix the pieces
I suppose some experiments are meant to fail
You were never my fairy tale.

Just take back the movies
From the five dollar bin
I took your t-shirts
And gave them away
That note is hidden
Somewhere between pages
In boxes I packed
When I moved into my parents'

I suppose a breakup is exactly that
Leaves you broken, trying to fix the pieces
I suppose some experiments were meant to fail
You were never my fairy tale.

And my boyfriend asks me who you were
Sometimes I feel his worry
He'll ask why I wrote this
I just know we were never some sort of love story.

I suppose a breakup is exactly that
Leaves you broken, trying to fix the pieces
I suppose some experiments were meant to fail
You were never my fairy tale.