I stared at the things before me stereos, your leather jacket, my book of CDs and wondered how “I think I’m falling in love with you" led to the police warehouse of confiscation so that I could identify what you took from me did you think you could steal a part of me? did you think you could win the argument with a few bits of bizarre circuitry? did you think that possession was what this was all about anyways? I tried so hard to make myself believe that maybe love lived in a faraway place for you that maybe I could show you that there was more worth in someone’s smile than their wallet I guess they caught you at a church they said that you ran and hid in an alley I’m torn between breaking everything of yours that I have left and putting it all away silently to let time knit the wound shut maybe you can bruise me but you’re the one who’s bleeding