Gathering thoughts…
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
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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?
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
