The Kitchen

Am I leaving or can I stay the night?

We can play pretend, if that means we get one last time

Step outside, look down, and feel the height

Brisk September air cuts just like a knife

The kitchen felt great

Ceramic mugs suspend above our sink

Ive stored mental pictures, this ones us on New Years

Spitting drunk in the street, in a desert freeze, counting down to our Seattle flight

Picking up the pieces now

Retired to my parents house

Sleeping on the pull out couch

Wondering when I’ll hear from you again

I gotta leave it alone

(I gotta leave you alone)

I gotta leave it alone

(I gotta leave you alone)

Now your feet drag across hardwood floors

Making your way to collapse on our bedroom floor

The stagnant air that’s stuck inside

Keeps saying 4 more years might be a wasted life

All those photographs won’t see the daylight

You’ll keep them tucked away, out of sight and out of mind

But when I look at you it feels just like the first time