why did you touch my shoulder that sunday morning?

the rink was a static disco, sparkling electric

we weren’t looking at each other

and anyway, you hadn’t spoken to me in weeks

if i fell, i would expect you to turn away

label me as desperate, maybe just a mailbox for pity

i was right. you left as soon as i saw you

why did you touch my shoulder that sunday morning?

i used to binge this one show all day 

and pretend you were the love interest

never thinking it would happen in real life

when your hand brushed my arm, deja vu hit

little canary-yellow lightning bolts 

that flew in bursts out of your fingertips

why did you touch my shoulder that sunday morning?

it’s cruel of you to give me false hope

painting your face on the inside walls of my soul

and i thought you didn’t want to live in my mind anymore

it’s stupid to think your home is really in my arms

so stick to your words and keep away

unless, just maybe, you truly wanted to stay