Off the wagon.

I fell off the wagon and I’m sprinting in the dark. I teetered and chose to not latch the gate. I fell off the wagon and I’m not quite sure I’m sane.
But the wagon was dry and there was little room for hope.
I hurled my body in a falling form so if I get hurt I can say it wasn’t my fault.
I saw you there along the ground, walking in and out of light, a normal man whose heart is kind…
Stay in a falling form so it’s not my fault this time.
You don’t spin words into gold, you don’t make up stories to keep me from knowing, you let the truth speak aloud. The sound becomes more valuable than gold plated sighs…Stay in a falling form so it can’t be my fault this time.
I’m off the wagon and I’m sheepishly walking with my fingers intertwined with yours. If keep my eyes on the ground I won’t fall into a trap. If I don’t look up I won’t have to admit that I’m sure. That I’m sure I want to be here and that I’m sure I want to try. That I’m sure you will leave me with time.

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