pulled into one-way streets.
Looking forward to highway talks,
just blame all wishful thinking on me.
Talk about nothing and everything,
ruminating all at the same time.
Fear of running motors:
another constant in my life.
Took the long route,
post street was still closed
"Wait 'till Cole finds out".
Waiting on you;
what's your destination?
Another night of parkings lots,
but this night never happened to you.
Late night, codependent
on whether you're warming up
to taking off from waking up to walking off,
I never meant that.
Let's drop what we were talking about,
close-call collective sense of loss.
I'll walk this time, don't drop me off.
Why wait for something
when I'm not and you're not ready?
(pulled from the wreckage)
I can't wait to say it's all my fault.
Late night, calm collected,
all different bodies, all different paths,
long interstates and living space
your loss, my bad.
Fold out the wheel when you're done and I'll wonder if long nights still mean something.
this night was not nothing.
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