Dear You (2018)
Music by Julien Monick, Text by Erin Mathews,
Some samples provided by Peter Nowak
I think of you most while I stand at the counter, and turn knotted cloves of garlic into soft feathered piles
My knife pinched between finger and thumb, as instructed
When whiskey tries to claw its way back up my throat and I stamp my foot no
Barring its path and dooming myself later, to be reminded of the tooth you swore was growing in your cheek
While I wrap myself around some poor, unsuspecting trash can
When I drive across the bridge with the windows down, between your old world and mine
And I catch a glimpse of the night I let go of your shoulders
And you held us steady while I tried to hold the sky above our heads
With my arms spread wide
I’m trying to outrun the feeling of walking around with the letters I can’t send.
Maybe it’s just the season - the bus exhaust blown in my face, the night air soaking my sheets. Whatever helps me resist the simplicity of, “I miss you and it’s not fair to tell you”
But I miss you, and it’s only fair not to tell you.
So I’ll write again soon.