Glass on the Carpet

You said you’re tired

But the bottle’s half alive

Kitchen light humming

I’m counting every stripe on the blinds

Your voice climbs walls

Then falls back on me

You swear you love me

But you aim where I bleed

And I, I clean the glass on the carpet

Bare kneed

Bleeding through the denim

And telling myself stories

Where I grow up and I outrun you

But then the lock clicks

Same door

Same room

Same drink on the table

When I’m dreamin of leaving

And wake up in the same small room

You call me “baby”

When you can’t stand on your own

I hold the secrets

So the neighbors never know

You say my mother

Would be proud of what I’ve done

For standing still

When every part of me wants to run

But I, I clean the glass on the carpet

Bare kneed

Bleeding through the denim

Telling myself stories

Where I grow up and I outrun you

But then the lock clicks

Same door

Same room

Same drink on the table

When I’m dreamin of leaving

But then wake up in the same small room

I packed a bag once

Shoes by the window

Heart beating loud

Like it might break out alone

But your cough from the hallway

Dragged me right back inside

You said

“Don’t ever leave me”

So I learned how to hide

I clean the glass on the carpet

Bare kneed

Bleeding through the denim

Tell myself stories

Where I’m older and I choose

But your shadow fills the doorway

Your hand finds my shoulder

I dream of leaving

And wake up

Still yours to use