Hand drum

Haunted Rooms

I think I was drunk,
or nearly there
for a while.
I don’t remember
everything I said,
but I remember your smile.
I don’t remember
what song was on
as we read
the Missed Connections.
We laughed at the ads
and looked
in different directions.
Well it’s ok.
I was joking
I didn’t really mean it anyway.
No, it’s ok.
I don’t think less of you,
couldn’t if I wanted to.
We’ll go our separate ways.
And I’ll see you at the next show.
I’ll smile
and say hello,
but I’ll try,
I’ll try to avoid you.
I buried the thoughts
and tried not to notice.
I felt so healthy
and I talked
for so long.
No it’s ok.
I was joking
I didn’t really mean it anyway.
It weighs on my conscience,
it calls me.
They call me at 5am
every morning.
Well if I knew how to hit,
if I threw the perfect fit,
I’d tear it all off the walls.
And if I knew
what you wanted,
I’d call you.
There are haunted rooms in this house.
(well, you should know.)
They wrap me tight
in the cold cold night
when I,
when I go.