​Only This

If you come at break of dawn,

you’ll find the key left in the door.

If you want, we can tear the barriers down—

two postmen, lost along their round.

Tell me—tell me, if you want—what you remember,

what you regret,

what you fear.

Tell me—tell me, if you want—

what it is about the holidays that takes your breath away.

Only this—

Don’t tell me about her.

Don’t tell me about her.

I’ve locked her inside yesterday.

If you come at break of dawn,

please tell me your finest stories—

the ones that bring statues back to life

and pull the shutters down on any stupid question.

Tell me—tell me whatever keeps you standing. Whatever dreams of you.

Only this—

Don’t tell me about her.