it's all so violent,
to live and feel connected.
the things we do
and say
and make
and break
in the name of love

how many times we've waited
for the dust to settle before
we stand up and brush
the wreckage from our cheek
only to fall again
and again
and again

how we fold ourselves
so deeply into each other
only to recognize the vacant space
they used to hold for us

and when...

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Scuffing leaves on the ground

With no other soul anywhere around

Hands in my pocket, keeping warm

My feelings swell to an indignant storm

Life at home isn't quite right

The yelling and shouting gives me a fright

"Best apart" says my instinct

But it's not like me to kick up a stink

Night times leave me cold, fearful and small

Ear to the glass, glass to the floor

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