Loving made me into a creature, a full-moon freak, who watches the stars floating out the front door, all packed on greyhound buses and sent out to find you.
I am stuck in the windowpane, hundreds of miles from home, andromeda on my mind and blisters on my feet.
From the overpass, i watch the taxis, writing goodbyes on my arm as i go.
I think if you ask me where i’ve gone too many times, i’ll come back in a firestorm and burn you up too quick, tell you who’s been on my tongue.
I might tell you what is chasing me, show you the mob on my heels, let the pitchforks hurt you too.
I have never looked over my shoulder.
I am ever pulling hairs from the root, waiting for dusk to see the first lightning bugs, tossing a wave under the moonroof at midnight.
I have no keys at my fingertips.
I have no voice to get me lost in heavens unknown.
All I can do is conclude, when the sky gets too unfamiliar, that I won’t ever stop thinking about you.
a/n : not sure whether this one's angsty or just desperate.
