The lights are on,
but the drive’s not there.
I wonder if this happens to everyone?
I’m sure it does, except
I’m not everyone.
And you, you’re part of them but lately
only half as strong.
Does that sound correct?
Or am I just scratching an itch
not meant to be scratched?
Am I bucketing a well
when all that’s left is rain?
I hear you when you say you’re tired.
I’m tired too.
And when you say you’re trying, love
I’m trying too.
I feel you when you’re breaking,
partly because I’m breaking too.
I feel it when your heart is aching,
since mine’s been split in two.
What’s left than but a couple lines?
Enough to prove our sorrow?
For all the many times I’ve died
I’ve always seen tomorrow.
It’s hardest when you say
the words that help you sleep,
so sleep as many days
as it took for me to wake.
Besides, I feel much better since
I know this fight’s a gas,
it’s a wonky handle left we clutch
of a longing meant to last.