I don’t remember how I like to sleep
The inside of a kitchen drawer
Or a suitcase-less floor
I know the elevator buttons here
React a bit too slowly
I know he’s letting go of me –
I don’t remember when it started, but I can feel it growing
I remember knowing
That this couldn’t last forever
I remember feeling better, I remember we were changing
I don’t remember breaking though I think we tried to fix it
When will he get angry that
My nerves are getting jumpy
I don’t remember feeling calmer though someone said I could be
I remember knowing they’ll choose what they want to see in me
I don’t remember losing the chance to take the stand
But there’s a suitcase in my hand
And somewhere else I need to be.