We met to be a memory
we won't share over photo albums and international coffee...
meant to be a maybe,
a long shot,
bad timing...
I was supposed to be collateral damage in your battle with you,
And you, slain by friendly fire in mine.
Perps and victims -
a perfect pair.
We were supposed to undo each other's shoes
and ask the other to stay awhile
...then put on our own shoes to run across each other's minds without rest...
We were meant to be a mess!
Complicated, not complex,
too simple to be sane.
Drunk off the thought of the start,
dangerously in extreme like,
infatuated with the fight of our wills against our fears,
holding hands to face the same monsters we met when we held hands.
Needing things the other just happens to have,
we see and intentionally don't ask.
Cause the two of us are only good for one thing,
giving each other a new song to sing,
everyday,
three minutes and thirty-eight seconds on replay.
The newest song from the newest artist on repeat
so we could get sick of the tempo and end up on delete,
Pack our beats and lyrics and walk out the door
saying to ourselves, "They don't make good music like that anymore!"
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