Getting Old

the walls are the same color as the ground
the air sits still in your mouth
come back, turn back around
turn back around

each morning I wake you up, pick you up
spin you around
you don't make a sound
won't make a sound

should I pin down your shoulders?
It's only when I want it
that your heat smolders
am I still getting older?

you must have hit pause
because we haven't moved
just made a bruise
cut me loose

Deeper, Softer

You are deeper than my best scars
You are who I wish had come this far
 Two sets of hands both just like and unlike mine

 I'm a heavy cross to bear
But you make me feel pretty to wear