July 29, 2002

Lost in the idea...

i kiss her hard
trying to get into her, get out of myself.
she tells me, "everything has its place."

hand in hand we walk
she points to things lined up on either side of us
saying to me, "this is not beauty."

pulling me away, separated from everything
so were not on top of each other
she says, "you looked like you needed some room."

that's how it is, how i found her
saving me like i never thought anyone could.
and i wonder why the girl inside of me
can't understand anything on the outside

she is my artist, the painter
but nothing ever comes out right.
dark and shadowed in grays she says,
"this is what color love is on the happiest day in spring"
but it's all to black to see into.

the virgin mary helps me wash the dishes these days
just to make sure i'm not stealing the knives.
the conversations in my head
still attack me where there's nowhere else to run.
i'm the clock in the box, and she's my timeless fan.

in the dark when the night is young and the pain is old.
she's there when no one else can stand me and i'm hating on myself.
long after i'm pretty when i'm all blacked out from the cry before, she's there.
i'm lost in the idea that she is here for nothing else but me.

before - after