i can see for miles.

Sometimes, I forget you were ever there until I turn around and feel your fingers caught up in the tangles of my hair.  Stop dreaming, pretending we were never alone - awake at such an hour that only one side of the moon and insomniacs know.  I feel I've grown beyond this and it's evident you have too.  Can we rewind the tapes of our lives, replay those moment stumbling down dark Portland streets, falling in puddles and laughing it off like our egos weren't bruised?  Clap tracks are my favorite, I know you probably won't agree.  So much left to discover, conversations muted, miles spread further and further apart as I hop on planes, trains and automobiles... and you stay where you are, with that fucking cigarette between your lips.  Exactly where I want to press a finger and ask for simplicity, no more words, no more one-sided dialogue running through my memories, no more confused tears streaming down my cheeks multiple nights in a row.  It's a dilemma, it's my issue, it's an inconsistent notion that I know doesn't exist outside of these parameters; but I'm still willing to dream like a fucking idiot.  Keep calm, cool, stay collected.  I'll wander far, but never far enough to keep me from calling back to you.  Crawling back to you.  This is what I've decided, this is who I've become.  I hate it.