San Juan

it was wild, our time together was wild. The heat of California's dry summer, San Juan Capistrano and your white t-shirt. You wouldn't let my hand go, why'd you let it go? And seemingly it's all my fault, sometimes I break down because it's "my fault" sometimes I can't get out of bed because it was all my fault. How was I supposed to drive back to the chaos as if it was going to all be ok? And now it's my fault all over again. I can't bare to think of you broken and lonely. It hurts my heart, you might not believe it, but it destroys my happiness in the moments I think of you letting go…finally letting go…Were we ever supposed to let go?  Sometimes I go about my life as if I'm always going home to you, as if you are waiting at home for me.  Home? Home???? Is there such thing alone, without you? I'm without you. We broke our marriage, we broke our promises…So what does it mean to you now when I promise to you that I'm sorry? What does it mean to both of us when we say we miss each other? What does it mean when we both say, this time…it would be ok? It was wild, our time together was wild. My hand was always in yours, and your lips always my home.