I think my minds made up. But I'm coming home late.
The weather was fine and the ocean was great
and I can't wait to see you again.
He reads the letter and throws it away.
"No one here cares if you go or you stay.
I barely even noticed that you were away.
I'll see you or I won't, whatever."
She sings a song as she bikes back home
and the rain falls from the sky,
the water looks bluer through her pretty eyes.
And everyone knows it whenever she flies.
He keeps his head up and walks through the street.
Every stranger and drifter he greets
and shakes hands with every loner he meets
with a serious look on his face.
She arrives safely with purse and bike in tow.
Carrying with her the good things he used to know,
like so many reasons to live
and reasons to grow.
But He sits alone on the hood of a car.
Without much regard to the moon or the stars.
Lazily killing the last of a jar
of the strongest stuff you can drink.
He gets home lucky to still be alive,
and walks up the sidewalk and into the drive.
The clock in the kitchen says 2:55,
(the clock in the kitchen is slow)
She has been waiting, patient and kind.
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign,
That the one that she cares for, who's out of his mind,
Will make it back safe to her arms.
He stumbles forward and leans in the door.
Weary head hung, eyes to the floor.
He says "Love, I'm sorry"
and she says
"What for? I'm yours and that's it, Whatever.
I should not have been gone for so long.
I'm your's and that's it, forever."
