I thought to give this to you like a parting gift
But then why?
Are no words pretty enough to you?
I think the world of them
And these are some of my most significant ones
I'm the writer, but you're the poem
You're the window on the train back home
I look at life, but only ever through you
Thinking of how I'd rather not think
And then maybe even unthink the things I've already thought
I'd unthink myself if I thought you'd miss me
I'd change the shape of my mouth if I thought you'd kiss me
I was hoping somehow we'd end up together
Outside, past midnight, and smoking cigarettes
The wallpaper inside my brain is decorated with your face
I'm lonely for you only
And I'm trying to convince you that I'm something you could love
