we are the sound of silent crashing in the ground, the wondrous beauty of death and moonlit last lov
We sat on the edge of the earth
As time passed in thick broken waves
That reminded me of the record I would play on repeat
repeat
every time you came around,
And knowing it was scratched, there was nothing I could do but close my eyes and pretend the deadspace wasn’t there
So, with dead songs with titles like
“A herd of cattle, we wonder who will die first”
“I’ll watch your eyes burn in the sun” and
“This is the end”
we held hands and dangled our feet off the edge of the earth
it felt good knowing we had control-that never happens…
it felt good to shiver as you whispered and blew breath against my ear
it was poetry written against the moonlight and nevermore will poetry sing with the wind,
the threadbare wind
the crying wind that washes away our tears of falling together from the earth
As time passed in thick broken waves
That reminded me of the record I would play on repeat
repeat
every time you came around,
And knowing it was scratched, there was nothing I could do but close my eyes and pretend the deadspace wasn’t there
So, with dead songs with titles like
“A herd of cattle, we wonder who will die first”
“I’ll watch your eyes burn in the sun” and
“This is the end”
we held hands and dangled our feet off the edge of the earth
it felt good knowing we had control-that never happens…
it felt good to shiver as you whispered and blew breath against my ear
it was poetry written against the moonlight and nevermore will poetry sing with the wind,
the threadbare wind
the crying wind that washes away our tears of falling together from the earth