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The same cartilage is half-haunting me as
I'm hooked willingly to the hued history of
Your quaint pleasantry and my split memory of
A notched maple tree and what you meant to me
The stark symmetry of the pier next to me was
A frame boundary of where we came to be and
Our feet following it back to the water
Would make our undoing hit even harder
And I still see it all ending
As you told me "it's not healthy
To want only when we're lonely"
What you needed I just couldn't be
My hands are dirty
You'd be the first to say so, you always were
It's half-metaphor, it's half-literal
You lined the walls with everything we've said before
Talking across your mouth
A tongue I couldn't taste with words I'd never hear
It's clear to me now
That was my first sin, my only sin
Writer(s): Gordon Phillips
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