A Compass For Strangers

Whenever I'm alone

I remember what you said to me

how I'm not gone yet, but i might be a stranger

how I can just not miss you

by dismissing you

and how when the trees tap on the window in a storm

they just want inside

where their roots are

and when the wind howls it just wants to be left alone

to practice the human language of love

but feels too cold to repeat

i believe you

you're not a writer, you're a lover

because you spell life out very clear to me

and like a teacher, you taught me so much

but like an executioner, you forgot about me

and sometimes when i'm trying to be a feather

i want to be a brick house

i don't like being water anymore

i don't want to fly 

soon we'll both board up our memories

and sell the house

and set our past off sailing

and need a compass

just to find each other

I don't want to be a stranger

to you anymore