the west wind in my window makes me crazy
fresh faced hoped glossy,
is this a memory?
is that my face?
look at all that hair, look at the joie de vivre
my exhalation is an exclamation of the fire i once possessed
how they came to bask in the warmth,
now the campfire at sunrise
smoldering-alone-forgotten
the smell of sulfur sickens me,
its the winters that get me,
over the cold moonsplashed parking lots
we walked tirelessly the nights infinity
my sweater sleeves kept your hips warm
we could have driven to the coast
cast ourselves to the atlantics emptiness
just the stars to witness us forever
now as the day awakens
rays lay bare the tragedy of corners
of things best left quiet
witnessed by whisperers
lies steeped with age
is this a memory?
is that my face?
look at all that hair, look at the joie de vivre
my exhalation is an exclamation of the fire i once possessed
how they came to bask in the warmth,
now the campfire at sunrise
smoldering-alone-forgotten
the smell of sulfur sickens me,
its the winters that get me,
over the cold moonsplashed parking lots
we walked tirelessly the nights infinity
my sweater sleeves kept your hips warm
we could have driven to the coast
cast ourselves to the atlantics emptiness
just the stars to witness us forever
now as the day awakens
rays lay bare the tragedy of corners
of things best left quiet
witnessed by whisperers
lies steeped with age