talk is cheap

I miss the feeling of sand in my sheets
after a long day of seasides
and laughter
because now I'm stuck
in the middle of a city
I'm not going to call home
in casual conversations
about the place I love the most

I miss when I knew I was special
because now I'm just a number
posted on a wall on the third floor
that will disappear when people start to roam
it's too hot for anything to be real
and the heat has gotten the better of us
these aren't the days of our lives
those were gone the second I said goodbye

I miss those times you told me this was special
because now I'm stuck in reverse
and I'm having a hard time coming to terms with
your new life and your new friends and your new fucks
this is a constant theme
and I was never good enough to be good enough
for your standards
but I was always good enough to be good enough
for your sheets

I miss my sunsets
and sweatshirts
because everything just fades away here
while we're stuck behind the blinds
with the air conditioner set on high
with our heads burried in our computers
doing nothing but learning how to ignore each other
I want substance
I want home

I miss you
and you
and you
and you
because all of the you's
that made the days worth going
are around the world
with more than enough
magic spells
to keep you happier
than I am now