the price of milk went up again, but i thought of all the breakfast cereal that was too dry to eat alone, of the orange powder that needed to turn into cheese sauce, of the chocolate colored bunny that wants me to stir up some fun, and i got a gallon. it sits in the back of the refrigerator waiting for the days that call for toast and soup and tea to finish. (they never do.)
you saw me crying on the playground over ants killed by a ten year old foot and the unfairness of life. you held my hand and stroked my hair, waiting for the days that are filled with tears over limp dogs and lost socks and lightening struck trees to finish. (they never do.)
i try to eat cereal but the bee looks at me wrong, and i put the box away. backwards. i try to smile and share (more than sadness) and fall head over heels, but i always watched where i was going too closely to stumble. (your arms don't look like they could catch me and my baggage anyway.)
you say things i wish you wouldn't and feel things you really shouldn't. you started to sing and stopped calling me on my lies. (you like to pretend they're truths.) you say that i have your heart, but i think you must be mistaken because i can still hear it banging on the bars of its cage in your chest. (it worries me how you lock up everything valuable to you.)
the milk is sour, but i can't throw it out because it's a reminder of the four dollars that i could have spent on something else, the children in africa, how i can't change for the better or do anything (or anyone) right, the fact that i never liked milk in the first place.
i never liked love either or compromise or trying to change. i have a gallon of milk i don't know what to do with... and i have you.
i don't know what to do with you either.
*Rest Stop - Matchbox 20