the night you told me you wanted me.
and the breeze doesn't tickle anymore, it bites.
winter is so apparently here and things are dying, like you and me.
my love for you is freezing out here
but the door is locked and i can't get in anymore.
so there's a decision to be made.
i'm on the outside looking in but you've pulled the shades.
do i stay or do i go?
do i stay right here until there's nothing left of me
and just hope that you'll peek through the blinds,
see me here, and come rushing to my aid?
or do i go, knowing that you might never come
looking for me and just try
to make my home feel like home again?
both have their benefits, but only one is guaranteed to have you.
so i turn my back on the door and start away from you.
this might be the most deliberating walk i've taken in an eternity.
(i'm sure georgia isn't as warm as they say it is anyway.)
