I don't know how to crochet
And therefore can't teach anybody.
I don't know where you were last night
And therefore have to read about it like everyone else.
It's all slipping away and I don't know how to grab it
From this far north.
You used to be down the hall
And below my bunk
But now I couldn't say what city it was
That held you Saturday night.
I want to reach out to you and make you feel
That I'm still here,
Willing to hold you when times get tough
Willing to dye your hair when it goes bad
Willing to tell you you're beautiful
Because you are.
These miles are too much sometimes
When all I wanted was to be with you,
To share something stupid that no one else would understand.
You know me still
But I'm losing it,
In the corner of a room
That belongs to someone else.