| Make This Motion Count |

I swore I wouldn’t write your name on my hand.

If I write it on the walls of a public bathroom stall,

What’s the difference?

Boy, what’s the difference

If

my dreams involve us walking into a room side by side,

And my first waking thoughts are spent reeling waving my arms thinking

What did you just say to-

Did I actually-

And what was the-

Then my mind closes like a shell

And kicks me out of my own thoughts

I am left standing alone at a bus stop

There is no music playing and the traffic gets softer and softer

Until all that is left

Is the story I start to tell myself

Of how I got here

And     where              I          will                              go

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