---

the rug beneath my feet
came out from under me
and now I'm down to one fork in a kind of divorce
with a clear procedure

I thought it would be impolite
not to extend the invite
felt the heat rush to my face with a ringing decay
I have to strain to hear through

at the foot of my bed
and at the back of my mind
I'm walking on eggshells
like these floors aren't mine

and we can blame it all on the stars
like they were never aligned from the start
try not to let this erase the years in this place
that used to be so mild

at the foot of my bed
and in the back of my mind
I'm walking on eggshells
like these walls have eyes

and in the dead of night
and at the crack of dawn
hold my breath in the hallway
maybe I've done something wrong

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