davis cemetery circa 1806

dark matter collides
like molecules within our eyes
your eyes are black holes
when you're looking at me
your eyes are black holes
when you are singing
your voice is like a gunshot
your eyes are black holes
your eyes
you were never mine

picking flowers taking pictures
haunted places empty houses
i spilled my coffee in your grandparents' cabin
on the lake
you said it was alright and you took a picture
i think it may have been the last one
you had never looked so beautiful 
shouting for you to slap the sounds on your knees
i slept on the floor so i could sleep close to you
i slept on the floor so i could sleep close to you

when sunlight shines through spider webs
just barely bright enough
to make our skin look less sickly
and that was as good as it would ever get

migration to a town where
the trees
with same leaves
change colors every season
and in the winter there's no reason
migration to a town where
in my nightmares as a child
the trees swallowed houses
and in the winter there's no reason
to try and keep on breathing
that's as good as it gets

i slept on the floor so i could sleep close to you
i slept on the floor so i could sleep close to you
i slept on the floor so i could sleep close to you