my dreams remind me of an ocean

You didn’t die, but it sure felt like you did,
When you started breaking yourself
And wearing eyeliner that looked like
It’d been put on with permanent marker.

One day at lunch, you let us peek
Into your backpack to see the bong you’d received.
And when your eyes lit up brighter than I’d ever seen them before,
I knew I’d lost you.

You had huge dreams, of falling in love
And singing punk rock to masses as fucked up as you.
You wanted to write books, travel to Spain,
Be an artist, solve mysteries like that guy from CSI.

But I saw you in Wal-Mart last week,
Your hair still straight and your spirit broken like a horse’s.
But your eyelids were getting their color
From sleepless bags, not eyeliner.

You told me you worked at a hardware store,
And you’re engaged to a boy who should definitely be a man by now.
I didn’t tell you what I was up to, how I was doing.
I didn’t want to seem like I was rubbing it in your face.

Your dreams were meant to take you higher,
Than the moon, than the ceiling, or at least your sofa.
But instead of reaching higher,
Honey, now you just get high.