bugging you.

I thought of it all after road tripping on foot.
Collectively peeling all the loose ends,
or unraveling them into threads
and recycling them into gloves.

They're all weaving the same,
hands lost their magic in predictability.
Anyways its always headed our way,
and i shivered in september;
a strange way to remember whats ahead.

Its the slightest of touch,
and your hands lost in magic,
only take enough.
Oh, not too much.
Do I care enough?

I thought coming home would cure
a couple things
I swear I'm over her.

Further now than I've ever been.
So far has got me here.
My car just disappeared.
You'll be swatting the same fly next year.

I'm trapped in a mason jar.
I free you in the dark
lightning from my heart
I'll bug you to death
just under your laugh,
but it feels like just enough.