We'Re Growing Up Alone

I can't tell what day it is it's been a strange morning and afternoon and week or more with sirens and alarms at 4am with words that I can't remember saying things I don't understand It's 4 o'clock now—so far we're eight hours too late Hands and feet and arms moving, changing form in a bed that's never changed Why are we growing up That's always the fear in loving the fear of things we're afraid might happen Seeing you in a mirror—asleep in the glass and not in here It's cold beds we fear most (by we, I mean us not them) You haven't felt in love since December crept into the sheets These moments, out of time pause for one last glance before slipping thru the cracks We're growing up alone Don't be afraid of New York winters love's a better home than this [end].