Phone Conversation/It’s Gonna Be Okay

Phone Conversation/It’s Gonna Be Okay

You picked up the phone,
you said hello.
I told you I only called
to tell you it’s not working out.
You said that you were so afraid
of living a life without us in it.
I said I was tired of not being vindicated.
You said I promised you the world,
well maybe I did.
But you and I both know
I can’t help but lie.
I told you I wasn’t honest,
you said you didn’t care.
I said I’m sorry, I need more,
this is getting so old.
You said I need you, please stay.
I told you I was scared of being so close to you,
you sang me Dashboard Confessional songs over the phone.
I pulled out that old line, hey let’s be friends.
You said you’d be all I ever wanted.
You are all I ever wanted,
I just cant take the worrying
about whether you’ll leave me someday soon.
I told you I wasn’t the one for you,
you said there could be no one else.
You said, remember when we spent that day
walking in the park in the pouring rain?
I remembered, your hand was warm in mine,
even though the rain was so cold.
You said my smile was the only genuine thing you knew.
And I remember we hid in the trees,
before I fell off a branch from laughing so hard.
I remembered you rolling through wet, mossy leaves,
pulling me with you,
us both soaked to the skin.
And I remember when you told me, “I love you”,
there under the dying oak tree,
when I was laying on my stomach
both feet in the air and hair all wild.
I remember being shocked by it,
as I picked those petals off the flower,
looking into your eyes, saying it back,
and running straight into the lake.
Your voice cracks on the line and pulls me back.
You say, love is like a role we play,
but I could have died in your arms that day,
and not regretted a thing.
I said, my heart is bleeding right now,
I think this is worth dying for.
You told me, you’re fragile and frayed,
at the ends you break.
I said I’d give anything to go back
to when I knew I was in love,
back to when you colored the sunset with your smile.
You said this can't be the end,
I’m not ready. Not ready.
I cant do this, I think I’m going to break,
you're begging and crying.
I’m sinking again in that same emotion,
the one I knew back when you
tackled me in the sand on that lonely summer day,
and we sat and watched the waves roll out to sea,
and I let the sand slip slowly between my fingers
and tried not to breath too loud.
I said I can't take it anymore,
I think I need you too,
like I need another hole in my head.
You said you’d carve another notch into my heart.
I said you’re welcome in my dreams,
you said you’d see me there.
I wrote you a poem,
about the way the moon shone
that night when I told you my worst fears,
my best hopes and dreams,
and you tore my heart out and left it to bleed
in the grass of my front lawn.
and I smashed that glass in the kitchen sink,
and wrote your name in my arm with that blade,
and cried my eyes out later.
That same night when I climbed in your bedroom window,
and left those broken glass shards
In your desk drawer with that note,
you know the one.
And I crawled in bed with you,
and in the morning it was okay.
Over the phone you tell me:
It’s gonna be okay.