We'Re Growing Up Alone
I can't tell what day it is
it's been a strange morning
and afternoon and week or more
with sirens and alarms at 4am
with words that I can't remember
saying things I don't understand
It's 4 o'clock now—so far
we're eight hours too late
Hands and feet and arms
moving, changing form
in a bed that's never changed
Why are we growing up
That's always the fear in loving
the fear of things we're afraid might happen
Seeing you in a mirror—asleep
in the glass and not in here
It's cold beds we fear most
(by we, I mean us not them)
You haven't felt in love
since December crept into the sheets
These moments, out of time
pause for one last glance
before slipping thru the cracks
We're growing up alone
Don't be afraid of New York winters
love's a better home than this
[end].
|