Happy song

I'm writing you a happy song
I'm writing one because of you
And how you make this blistered skin
Feel bold and warm
And new

I'm writing this in morning sun
Burning lips on porcelain cups
Overhearing bits of boring talk
Knowing it's not enough

To keep us locked in bed like those
Who dress in all familiar clothes
Who tear at life just paper deep
Who say that dreams are just for sleep

Step one: stop deciding what to make and start making it
No more thirty meek pages to come out and explain it
No more complaining that writing got harder when life got easier
Because when this all started is exactly when you wanted that

My back haunted by years of manic attacks
Packed tightly between loves
Like dynamite strapped above my own funeral

But no

Goodbye to counting scores
Slamming doors
Cutting cords, and
Onto sycamore forests
On the coast of oregon

I'm done with missing calls or ignoring them
I'm done not being my own friend
I'm finished kissing wrists who won't let their scars go
It's hard, though there's an end in sight
Each and every kiss goodnight

I'm writing you a happy song
Even if it feels contrived
I'm writing you a happy song
Because you make me feel alive