The Speck of Dust on your Glasses

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within dim lights
the bus goes 100 in a 80
and im thinking of you
as i travel, how classic

what could i have done to save
something that never existed

the moments that still inspire me
to breathe, to live on
were never real
emulated, faked, thrown across

far away from home
i reach the place where it ended
and ever so closer i move to it
i get reminded, of the us that never was

what if i never did say
what i felt from within
the feeling you never could
reciprocate, and you'd lose yourself

what if i never felt
the feeling you never could
reciprocate, would you still find me
in the midst of the morning fog?

would you have reached for me
through the valleys and the mountains
just for the sake of seeing me
for the last time?

i have already left,
fled from the place you'd have found me
i am somewhere else,
whatever, you probably don't even care

but still you asked me
to not cut you off from my life
you say its for taking advice from me
really? an advisor has expertise.

me? oh i just merely try
to feel things sometimes, to get out of
the monotonous societal boredom
they call it "maladaptive daydreaming"

me? i call it escape
escape from the reality that is
into a place where the only reality
is us, and nature's embrace

i still wish we would have worked out
we could have lived in the same wood cabin
up in the alps, and stargaze
while you roll up into my arms

nothing ever goes to plan
and neither will my life
but my love for you, ill try to keep it alive
even though i know it will fade

and it will fade really soon
but ill still hold on to that one memory

thanks to the speck of dust
that fell on your glasses.

bee.

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