His creased brow as he turns the pages
And you're in the bookstore; you're in the library;
You're in my bed dissecting my body for secrets
Tasting disappointment. Look out the window
You're drowning in the light of a streetlamp
Searching for a way home. Inspecting your pockets for reasons.
You're in the store and I'm buying. Years of our lives
Under that street lamp, walking the pavements,
Avoiding the cracks in your face. Hopscotching back in time:
Buying those shoes, passing that exam, kissing that boy
You should always kiss the boy. In the movies
You hold my hand, peel my skin like fruit and climb inside
We're in our first kitchen, chopping vegetables
Watching as knives take on a new definition
We're in the library, you inside me, chasing after meaning
Probing each other for desire, finding the truth on the
Tip of your tongue. We're in bed, hearing the neighbours
Live our lives. Taking each other apart to find the sum
Of our whole. Holding hands as we dream of bettering ourselves,
Dream of someone else.
