junebug

Junebug, i remember everything:
the blue-carpeted floors, the tall wooden doors...i held you in my arms.

Junebug, i'd burn down a picture of a house,
say it was ours, when we didn't need it anymore.
and that was when i loved you best.

we were kids then. we shouldn't think about the rest.

you'd put the moon in a basket on your bike front by the coast.
the way your face lit up in pale grief--you were a ghost.

you liked to play with darkness, all the universe could give.
i was the home you once tried to escape, the dark
in which you lived.

and soon they'd find you lying on several different homes;
they'd find you lying on their porches, "do you need to use the phone?"
and lure you into their rooms.

that was the last i'd heard of June.

that was love i could not allow.

you were beautiful then,
you're just a coke jaw now.

i remember everything...
i remember everything...
i remember everything.

that was love i could not keep.

you were beautiful then...
i'm still in too deep.