St. Vincent Charity - Signals Midwest

You were easier to meet than to get to know.

An unwavering smile gave way

to something twisted, dark and foreign.

And when I would call, you were never home.

Maybe I could have prevented something

or had some influence.

But when you called me

from the hospital,

I recognized your voice

but I didn’t understand it at all.

Yeah, you said you were sorry

but you didn’t say what for.

And that you wished we could have been friends in real life, but that night

reality never hit harder.

Whitewashed eyes dimly reflecting a fluorescent glow.

You laid still while I was tearing up the floorboards.

There in the dimming lights and the peeling labels,

clusters of couches and coffee tables.

A weakened sun splits a stagnant sky

and the church doors open.

The bed they made you at St. Vincent

held a body’s warmth and a heart stretched distant,

out past the shoreways and into the hands

of the ones we love but leave alone.

I wish I could know what you’re thinking.

Wish I could know what you’re thinking.

Wish I could know what you’re thinking.

Your silence, it speaks volumes.

Wish I could know what you’re thinking

Wish I could know what you’re thinking

Wish I could know what you’re thinking

Your silence, it speaks volumes.