Ellen

these pencils drift in and out of my hands

they might as well be made of broken lead.

I talk all night with you, I lose my sleep

but it’s all okay inside my head

next comes the part where we drift to the shores

and our eyes droop like heavy doors

I bruise my knee on the way out

my shoulders filled with doubt and

you call me every now and then.

is this what they told us when we were young?

some heavy drinks and then you’re done

no, I don’t want to stop and smell the roses

I watch my fingers, my life decomposes and

you still call me now and then.