For my best friends: 

​

Though at the end of the world life feels crazy,

when my best friend came to visit from Miami

it felt like how it always used to be: 

​

We rolled that joint and no one smoked it, 

you borrowed my shoes and thought that I wouldn’t notice,

your boyfriend called you a bitch 

and we laughed though I wished 

you wouldn’t take that shit. 

​

I cried all the way home. 

It hurts to know 

I’ll never be my own. 

So many people have got a hold on me. 

I am the clay and they’re shaping me. 

​

We’re so much younger than I thought we’d be at twenty.

I spend too much while you save all of your money.

And we’re killing ourselves in college 

to work at jobs that we never wanted. 

And you say this time you’re really gonna move out,

well call me a cynic but I’ve got some doubts.

‘Cause while I need a roommate 

I need a friend too. 

You never needed me 

as much as I need you. 

​

I cried all the way home. 

It hurts to know 

I’ll never be my own. 

So many people have got a hold on me. 

I am the clay and they’re shaping me. 

​

So please God, no more trips to the airport. 

I can’t stand to see you walking away. 

Stall the plane-- 

I think I see signs of rain. 

Grab the luggage-- 

you left your keys in my apartment. 

And besides, 

it’s not the same on facetime. 

So just stay.

Just stay. 

Just stay. 

​

You can remember the things I forget

like the playlist I made when you first left

or the last time I was mad at you, 

though it didn’t sound like something you’d do.

And yes, I’ve got memories up here in my head

but the ones of you live in my body too:

in the smell, in the sound, in your residue. I’m so tired of missing you. 

 

I cried all the way home. 

It’s enough to know 

I’ll never be alone. 

So many people have got a hold on me. I am the clay and they’re shaping me.