sticks and stones

i know i have something to say and no one to say it to
i know i can hear all your secrets in tone of your voice
i know i don't deserve all the pain i've been through
i know i can't live with the consequences of the wrong choice

i know i have been called an angel
i know i have been called a paradox
i know i had a good reason to ask you to leave
i know i probably should change all my locks

i know i always did the best i could
i know i sometimes do more harm than good
i know i rarely do things the way i should

i know i am alone and
i know i probably got the wrong idea

...but as you were walking away
...i started to feel like i would never see you again
...you said i was being paranoid and

i know i might seem that way sometimes

...but the moon looks so precise
...and this love looks so untouchable that it's hard to get a grasp on but

i know i can't stop reaching for it

...if it means i might feel the way you move around inside yourself when you sleep
...in the dreaming, there is truth
...and i see you smile so

i know i have taught you to fall into the peace of closed eyes

...and i look down into my own palms
...the lines and shading seem to tell a story...
...when i was eight years old she read it to me and that is how

i know i will live to be eighty-three and someday play the guitar

...and that's about all of the future you are prepared to see
...when you're still small enough to listen for bells and magic
...when snow is a white dream you dance in

i know i have not seen the last of my strength melted

...and every winter gives itself away
...piece by piece to the blanket of spring

i know i need too much

...but why need at all if you can't have everything?