the confusion

i could write a book in my sleep
i wrote a few.
if you call not sleeping a dream.

it turns the lovers into fluff.
the yellowish remains of leaves
on the side of the road
have been rotten again
time and again
where i tried to hide my fears
and my broken bones

could anyone have seen my fall
could anyone instead take a part
could no one,
listen to the falling rain
for a second it's my radio
they're playing my song

it's called
i miss the solitude i never lost
i long for the life i always had
i have what i want but it's not really mine