I have been both lover and beloved, unrequited 

dispassionate and quiet around you. 



And when I am old, when the skin under my eyes 

stretches to wrap around the things I've seen, 

what will it mean that I didn't take a chance on you? 

Didn’t get lost in a glance from you? 

This fragile balance, this delicate palace where one left 

puts two people on two different paths. 

But if I hold out my hands to you 

it doesn't make it right, it doesn't make it right. 



I want more for my life than my name in lights, 

my name in lights! 



I've read books and understood them, 

understood the looks you gave me 

when I sent you a letter from Bennington 

telling you that I couldn't leave his grave without a poem of my own 

and all I wrote about was having you and not having you. 



I want more for my life than my name in lights!