Measly Weekends

All these measly weekends,
I see you now, I see you wild,
I hear the chatter of your child,
I hear barn cats meowing,
mewing louder as you walk me out,
I see you late night in your Levi’s
drinking beer that holds history,
but tastes like water.

And your soul feels as old
as your hundred year home,
town said you’d wear me out,
but I still fell into your fold,
was looking for a liberal guy,
got caught up in your right-wing eyes,
and you’re posting shit that I can’t stand,
I still got lost between your hands.

An ounce for an ounce,
a pound for a pound,
I would have followed you
all the way down,
I would have followed you
across this whole town,
and now I loathe you
like fake news.

Self-Preservation

The things we do to self-preserve:
I hung on to you, numbed my feelings,
hibernated in self-doubt,
distanced myself from my friends and family
to create all the space you needed.

You spread my anxiety out all over the room,
but we called this some kind of love;
I wonder what it is like to be inside your foggy head
as I form a little spoon around the back of you,
wait for you to smile or say some words.

Depression

Sometimes I wonder
what it would be like
if you had been willing
to gaze at the stars.

Other times I understand
your mind was so cloudy
the meteors might be hard
to spot in the sky.