Missing You... But Only In The "Connecting Flight" Kind Of Way

Passing exits on my way to see you, I get lost in the whirlwind of towns that pass me by. The meaning of home was lost years ago in the number of names I hear on a daily basis. Meeting so many people has me only remembering my own name.

I dream of your hand on the doorknob and your fingers trailing off the cool metal. One twist right and this is gone. Forever. I worry that your phone won't want to be woken up and that it won't work both ways.

Since we've been together holding hands doesn't feel like holding grudges. I've reverted back to the corners of libraries where no one could ever find me. Why do I think of you as more than an exercise in futility?

Phone on standby is just wishful thinking. It's okay, it's practically my major.

To be completely honest you're not like all the rest.