put on a path to meet me- i said i like your style and I also like your face. said happy birthday later that week, you said,“you are cool and I like the way you treat me.” but it’s too late. it’s too late. we made our beds. it’s too late. it’s too late. pull back the sheets and sleep there. you are in my hair now, and when it shifts around i smell that you are with me. sometimes when i’m real real still, my shallow breaths - they conjure up your face. but breeze is just a segue. i’m full of you and you aren’t even here. it’s too late, we we say goodbye but we’re looking in the mirror. it’s too late. talk is fleeting now, and your stare is getting clearer. and now we have to lie and lay there... someday i think i’ll look back and be shocked by my desire and my self control.