I like to pretend your tears are water colours I paint every sunrise with.

Soft cushions, the type of comfort you feel in knowing it all.
(Are you sure?)
It helps me believe I'm amazing.
(I'm not sure.)
And you are crazy, like the extended shadows late afternoon,
Spooky sharp, never well-rounded.
These sleepy days we have under our belts, ammunition for the tougher times ahead.
Bright nights attract the enemy in headlight streams.
(I back the other team, the receiving end.)

Picked up the hints.
Cigarette butts in city streets,
Wait until I return.

Could it sting?
The clouds were too heavy to move that day,
And the wind too scared to speak.
A lover was taken by fault not by nature,
Put to peace in a hospital bed.
A body refusing to breathe again.
A widow refusing to seek again.
Could it sting?
I've got my best shoes on,
Backseat tickets with your words scribbled on them.
Make me feel,
Make me feel safer.