Gathering thoughts…
ask and you shall receive
the phrase cushions my grave
i’m destined for this i guess
but if you wish to dance
just be my guest
and i’ll join you for our sweet macabre
one last tango to my funeral sonata
but i need you to know
your weapon; the word
so help me decide
who’s dying first?
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with eyes that grow flowers and a cool that blooms calm one that pinches your cheeks but before you blink is gone and you stay there, cherry blossom pink like a summer moment on a half-frosty morning or an April shower he walks on, hands in his pockets and eyes that could grow flowers
plane tickets and a dusty suitcase stacked away in lofts, in your search you only found the one thing that was never lost and yet you yearn for parts of you you cannot reclaim because your broadened horizon means you’re not the same and yourself is the only one to blame.
i guess i suppose i can’t say for sure but then again maybe can neither confirm nor deny that you’re in my mind all the time maybe I’ll win maybe I’ll loose maybe it’ll just blow the fuse and we’ll sit there in the dark pitch black wondering how to make it out of this mess
and not on a Thursday. saturday wedding. suited and booted. pastel flowers. pink tie. Then reality sinks in. The plan is not mine to make. And you’ll marry on a Thursday anyway.
i try so hard every day i tell me i’m right in every way my heart doesn’t dare to hope so it pulls strings and hangs them in ways that paint a picture of you as ‘nothing, buts’ and for weeks there’s emptiness and abyss and space and void until, there you are, emerging and yet this time you are stronger tanner eyes more blue smile wider and i’m gasping for air i love you again
