The Morning After 

Nothing new except I feel a little out of place

Glass bones move underwater, he kisses my face

I think in blue, speak in grey, feel the yellow of his gaze

Without a clue he brings in cups of coffee, humming through the hallways

Mmm mmmmmmm

Nothing new except the sunshine’s just a little bright

Hungry hands trace shapes on my skin, stale in daylight

Walking to, walking from, walk I walk I walk the same 

Cupped hands stay warm around a dying flame 


It’s all tip toes and eggshells from here

It’s all very good on paper much harder to hear 

Eyes as blue and hands as soft

Things feel right and then they’re wrong 

It’s all leaps and jumps moving in a flash

Swaying to the fires that come with the crash

Arms in the morning—they feel unknown

Thinking of your smile, sleeping alone 

Oh, nothing new

Oh, nothing new

Twenty-two with a knack for breaking 

Fingers crossed, eyes closed, knees quaking 

Reaching for all that is 





Oh nothing new mistaking for what it was, what is new

Mistaking and falling right back to you

Thinking of you

It was supposed to be—

Nothing new

Oh nothing new—mistaking

Oh nothing new— backbreaking and falling right back

Breaking and falling right back to you

To you

Oh nothing new