It Ends with a Fall

Wish I could remember why it mattered to me.

It doesn't matter to me.

It doesn't matter to me anymore.

Now that you're feeling fine,

I'll admit that - though I know it's coming down,

and see it shattering me - it doesn't matter to me,

and I'm not sadder for seeing it come.

I'm not going to run.

I will just come when I am called.

You want to cut me off

because I took too much,

but don't leave me alone.

Take off your scarves, your winter coat.

The night's too cold.

When we met I should have said

you're like a sister to me,

how all that kiss her just seem

like puny suitors I can see through,

how none will do, not for you,

it might as well just be us two.

And when I pulled you by the jacket

from the clattering street,

you started flattering me,

you started saying I was so strong.

String me along, but I can't become all that I'm called.

And I can't claim to know

what makes love die or grow,

but I can still take control

and so refuse to just go home,

back down the hall.

And as I crawl,

as finally all the false confetti blooms up in this attic room,

I'm going make my stand.

I want to see both of your hands put down the phone.

I won't let you go,

although the moment stole my self-control

from us all and now it can only end with a fall.