Still Air

29. STILL AIR

So this is what it's like to be at the end of your rope,
to be gripping yourself for the tragedy of still air.
Yet everyone asks if you still have hope,
even after you've been bounced from logic.
Give me a sign. I'll take it and hold it high
for the Heartbreak Club to see and sigh.
Let's keep our distance from a spark.
Instead, let's glance from a haunting distance
at possibilities of different endings.
The what-if's never shrug,
the shrug I use when I want to tell you everything,
but all I come up with is still air.

It rips me up to see you walking alone,
notebooks like a boulder of burden.
I want to tear them from your hands
and replace your grasp with me.

Ignorance can subdue me and loneliness can seduce me,
but I'd rather be soothed by the raise of an eyebrow,
or the tug of a smile at the corner of your frown
when I enter the room. An empty space next to me,
I permanently saved it for you.
Please give me a longing look just once
and I will drop it all just to see.
Maybe today we can start from scratch.
Pretend we're both new faces. I'll crack a joke
and hold the door for you before I leave.
Everytime I see you, I see me with you.
I can't extinguish the thought of waking next to you.

It grips me to be drowning all alone.
Doubts like an ocean surround me.
I want to take you with me
and drown us both in still air.