A thin and sketched out drawing
Of a family and a memory
Eyes are weary but they fade with the aftertaste
A love so sweet it could only be sampled for an instant
A piano plays softly in the background
I set the scene for my own wishfull thoughts
I’m the only one to blame in these feelings I spin round and round on my fingertip
Like a bit of fabric that could be turned into a summer dress
Light plays a game with my bloodshot eyes
I could stay up all night just remembering
A velvet-like couch with silk pillows and an uncomfortable atmosphere
And I can recall the brown scratchy fabric I grew up sitting and playing on
But everything’s altered into a whole different set of realities
Somewhat comforting shadows of banisters and curtainless windows
This is nothing like the creaks and whispers of the oaks that line the abandoned road
Slip into a trance of standard love
I miss the nights, the way I’d laugh
I lost a girl, one way or another
I stepped out of the ready-made pattern, the relaxed years
They shifted into a cold barren land wasted on so-called homes and faked rank
Tiny red house settled into a hill
I learned to run down the black asphalt past the cove of evergreens and down the rise of the simple avenue
The structure, it sleeps for tonight until one day a phone call will change its future
Like everything, this home will be taken away from me
A story left only to what I can’t forget, a walk I’d rather take at a run down memory lane
I’m hungry for something that cannot be filled
A flavor I can’t name, a need I can’t label
A raw feeling left to my heart to translate
I’m dying for something I’m not even sure exists
If I’m left empty handed and stripped of all love, there’s still memories of the little red house
Just waiting for me to come home.