Gathering thoughts…
i want you to fold
and tremble
for the cages of our soul
unable to control
what’s out there
i want you to question
you, her and me
i want you to answer
completely
honestly
i need you to listen
fight for me
i want you (to)
i truly do
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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?
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.
