Levi Weaver

Paddleboats

Levi Weaver


I never let you in until you needed out and then
I realized these walls that I’d let build themselves
Out of thin doubt had turned the deadbolts inside out
So I couldn’t even chase you like I needed to
I’m so sorry that I shut you out
Please let me make this heart a home again

So I’ve thrown all of the furniture out in the lawn
In case you’re ever driving by. I want to try to prove
To you I’ve turned my insides out again
I took the doors and windows off the hinges
So you can come right in.
This doorway’s dark without your shadow
But the only thing I’m letting in is rain, rain, rain

This mattress is a paddleboat; when I try to ride alone
I float in circles for an hour and then give up
And I go medicate myself until I pass out
On the front lawn or the floor, and I come visit you
You always haunt my dreams a little bit
But I love to see you any way I can

So every morning I’m in pain
Whether from spirits or from ghosts (or both)
And I wonder if I found you in
Whatever paddleboat you’re in with him these days
(I just want to haunt your dreams a little bit, too)
I know this wound won’t ever heal if I keep picking it
But it’s all that’s left of you

So I keep the front door open to whoever wanders in
But she don’t balance out this bed
So I don’t write her name in pen
She’s just a melody that doesn’t match the chords you wrote
But I just can’t stop picking them
It’s like a one-sided equation
With an answer that I know won’t ever grace these sheets again
(I’m just) a one-sided equation
With an answer that I know won’t ever grace these sheets again