Hope In January

Hope in January has an odd taste in the mouth

You offered me a cigarette, almost

By the train tracks that lead to the sea

All things lead to the sea

There's chairs in the backyard

Overgrown clover, haphazard cushions

It's my house, it feels abandoned

(Someone lived here you know)

Through the dirty window

Empty for years and beautiful

I'm driving north again

I will forget all the words to Auld Lang Syne, like last year

Stumble through dances and songs and shots of scotch

Two glasses of orange juice

I will wait for the freight trains to come

Smoke that cigarette, almost

(I can taste it)

I've stopped running into the cold night for comfort

I've stopped wanting to peel my skin off

I've stopped dreaming of death

I've stopped waiting

I've stopped

Hope in January springs up like flowers over a grave

Bright color among the grey