Made up my eyes, my lips, made up my mind,
I keep wishing you’d be something more than kind.
If not today, then let it be tomorrow;
it seems to suit me but I do detest the sorrow.
I’d like to be the one who can brighten up your day,
who can ask the glowing stars to fall,
telling their lost lights to be on call
to guide you on your way.
Can you see them, all the stars that are falling
into the street lights?
Hear them calling
to your car, driving through a thousand nights?
I’d like to be the one who’s home,
or at the very least, the one who’s always there for you,
writing inadequate words that are nonetheless true
with her thumb stuck to her phone.
So I try to get on speaking terms, even if it’s only just;
darling please don’t blame me for I must.
I try to break your silence single-handedly,
my precious monologue, my one-way plea.