The Ropes

She stares out through the pane of glass
It’s hard to see when it’s blurring
Outside the sky is clear, the sun is dying
Her boyfriend is now unknown
He’s got her best friend on the phone
His dirty clothes, or all the names he calls her
The greatest part of him is how they once were
When everything now is about him, things about her don't matter
There's nothing to be said to change that part
Except when he calls her, he resists her heart

It's 11pm on a Friday night, she's dressed to kill
Everything the boys want, the girls will admire
He's going to leave her, retire for the night
He’s got her best friend that’s just right
I smile after she comes over,
She sees me lying next to her awake, eyes half shut
But totally afraid, repenting for what
We both know is going to take place
I am not afraid to walk this world alone
Nothing you say can stop her from going home

It's a quarter to six, with words I thought I'd never speak
You pull that sheet close
The light makes our eyes weak
She’s fading, along with her hopes
Hanging on the ropes
He doesn't know anything about her

You're a season

The waves of our resistance define our choices. The consequences of our actions are unparalleled. We drift, spiral, vanish, beyond the means of reason. I don't truly like this; I don't like letting go, going slow, pushing my thoughts of you aside. If you just didn't have that silly smile, the one where I pull you in, gravitate, and run my fingers through your hair. Your dark, dark, cold hair.

It's our roots. We stem from issues unresolved, complications, triangulations, pieces of our hearts spinning by day, thriving at night. Talking through issues, skipping work, playing by ear, remember? Calling you on the phone talking until the sky begins to open, with warm shafts of light press down upon us. Your hand that was in mine. These are the days I live for.

Unequal, inconsequential, insatiable, our appetite grows. It's hard to be the better man, when you keep on dying. Let the pale, still, earth glow and let your eyes open to this new season. It is now just a period of life, where we let go of our strife, our delights, moving for the sake of motion. It's such a dangerous business to keep your thick, desolate door open when these winds blow in; who knows what will push through to you. Never give up.

I say this in honesty, repentance, and inspiration. You were the reason for my innovation, in and out. The waves lap against the house, our shaky foundations built on mud. It's hard to be intertwined when the bricks you build with are made of sand, right? Like a lock in a door, a room to a hallway, wheels to a car, pillow to a bed, I still embrace you. Keep your pretty head up and never let go. This is our season.

You Know Those Times

You know its the times that when things mean the most, that things hurt the most. The worst is when you're with your boyfriend or girlfriend, and you're sitting there making out, and you know they truly just don't connect with you. You know you're physically attracted, check, they have a nice personality, check, a sense of respect, check, but what you need the most, true friendship, is missing (blank). The fact that the deepest conversation you can discuss is his newest car, or her newest pair of shoes, slightly bothers you. The fact that you truly can't tell him or her your deepest thoughts, because you just don't know them, is quite simply, the worst feeling. That's specifically why I only settle 190% for the right person, not for the person at the right time. I'm all down for having a girl with great looks, a nice personality, but if I can't get to actually know her, how can I truly like her?
Some things to think about.

-Tyler Stunna-