what is this weariness that waits for you shrug  you press your ankle against my arm  this is the pressure that i love  you always recommended it  could be the door  could be the phone  for any intent or purpose   your not home  your up against the wall   no real impression like breath on glass    ive got the apple in me too  people are bluer then they ever imagined they might be  looking through the boxes in the basement  who were you then  your restlessness is emptier   then the room we used to live in  here's wishing you the best  the rest is always better left unsaid