I wrote it down. Did you see it? Behind the 8x10's and the dark empty bottles. Under coffee stains. All the things you said and everything I already knew. I'm caught. In the middle of what I ought to be and what my idle mind betrays of me. And I thought belief, at least once, would make things real. But I'm finding that it takes more. I want interrupted gazes. I want an uncommonly common ground. I want the chuckle of novelty. A moment that's bigger than the conversation. And a smirk of discovery drowned in sincerity. But I'm also desperate for home. So lay me over. For now. Before we have to speak again. And enlighten me because I'm caught in the window again.
