See,
I felt bulletproof for a little while.
And then I realized I was wrong, but it only made me feel bulletproven, validated.
As in,
"No, I am not bulletproof, but here -
look at all this bullet-proof.I have the wounds to show you.I'll lift up my shirt;you will see
I am riddled.
come, occupy my negative space."
And so,
we acted like happiness was a score to be settled
- a dual.
Pointed earned and lost through laughs and smiles, or...something like that.
- touche.
Score tied, zero-zero.
Sometimes they call that "love."
But in actuality, there is no winning or losing. There is only luck
, and inertia.
Keeping the planets lined up (in just the right way),
Keeping the stars saying yes (or no, sometimes),
Guaranteeing - at the very least - that any part of the dust in my lungs might find its way into yours
, or vice-versa.
And now, instead:
stick
tick
click
b o o mstayawhile
s t i c k a r o u n d.
(putmymouthonyours, the rest is easy [or so they say])
i'm just saying,
if you stayed in my living room,
i'd let you keep your clothes in my garage.
