"You get back here. You do it slowly. Do it calm, now don't be so angry. I got something I've been chasing, every day since I started walking. It just sits there in the distance. It always flirts with the tips of my fingers. You thought that you could love it, until it touched you and now you just wanna stop it. Well I'm sorry. It's not likely. It was here when you got here. And it'll be here when you're not here no more. And then some days, I get lucky. I can focus and things are less shaky. And I scrape you off the pale moon and I slip you into soft shoes. And you tapdance to a jazz band, on a cruise ship, near an island. And your hair's up. You wear a short dress and a wide smile, your movements are careless. It's a daydream I keep having, to make the clocks move while I'm working or a bad joke I can't sit through and I smile because I feel like I have to. But if you'd look under the table you'd see I'm playing with my knife. I'm slicing stripes into my kneecaps and I'm struggling just to come off polite.
We could be a snapshot framed and hung like a portrait. What if that's true and I'm the only one who knows it?"