what if it doesn't come back?
we walked for hours looking at anything that could provide distraction from the silence
there was a man on the street selling shoes and coils of wire so we laughed about that
somewhere across canal there was a car accident but no one was hurt so we kept going
i thought about a dark blue room, just before the sun rises, when the air feels new and all the movement seems to be glossed over like new photographs
your face mirrored the way you look on stage when you sing and then relaxed into that perfect smile
i took polaroids in the living room at six am
someone told me that you can tell how a person feels about you by they way they smile in the picures you take of them and though i have often looked at the images i still can't figure you out
and now the words and the feeling and the breath - they're all gone
you said you wanted to be with me, in my bed, and the sheets agreed with us- slipping over everything like so much rich cream
then later at the show, we stood in the balcony leaning against a row of chairs knowing that a goodbye was inevitable but pretending like we didn't
i slid my pinky finger over and touched your thumb and you gripped my hand for a moment in the dark while we watched the crowd below and made fun of people
i let the tip of my tongue graze your earlobe when i leaned over to tell you something i have now forgotten
there were so many secrets- looks that seemed to make time stop and everyone else seem like they didn't exist
being the girl that you walked over to after thirty minutes absence to say: hey, where have you been? i've been looking all over for you.
why does time race by at marathon speed just when you find a place that you want it to just stop forever?
when we were outside you dug in your pocket and brought out a wad of papers, and a tea bag wrapper from the cup of tea i had made you that morning and i said: you can throw that away, you know?
but you said that you wanted to save it- sentimental value you said.
and when i think that you were here in my house on my couch in my bed on my chair in my sheets
all the stained moments of missing you and knowing that you would never be able to stay all bloom out and burst out of my stupid skull with panting jagged movements and i hold on to anything that can just stay still and catch me
its like the ducks at a carnival floating around in a kiddie pool
bobbing around idiotically
eyes wide and thick lashed
waiting to be caught
there was a man on the street selling shoes and coils of wire so we laughed about that
somewhere across canal there was a car accident but no one was hurt so we kept going
i thought about a dark blue room, just before the sun rises, when the air feels new and all the movement seems to be glossed over like new photographs
your face mirrored the way you look on stage when you sing and then relaxed into that perfect smile
i took polaroids in the living room at six am
someone told me that you can tell how a person feels about you by they way they smile in the picures you take of them and though i have often looked at the images i still can't figure you out
and now the words and the feeling and the breath - they're all gone
you said you wanted to be with me, in my bed, and the sheets agreed with us- slipping over everything like so much rich cream
then later at the show, we stood in the balcony leaning against a row of chairs knowing that a goodbye was inevitable but pretending like we didn't
i slid my pinky finger over and touched your thumb and you gripped my hand for a moment in the dark while we watched the crowd below and made fun of people
i let the tip of my tongue graze your earlobe when i leaned over to tell you something i have now forgotten
there were so many secrets- looks that seemed to make time stop and everyone else seem like they didn't exist
being the girl that you walked over to after thirty minutes absence to say: hey, where have you been? i've been looking all over for you.
why does time race by at marathon speed just when you find a place that you want it to just stop forever?
when we were outside you dug in your pocket and brought out a wad of papers, and a tea bag wrapper from the cup of tea i had made you that morning and i said: you can throw that away, you know?
but you said that you wanted to save it- sentimental value you said.
and when i think that you were here in my house on my couch in my bed on my chair in my sheets
all the stained moments of missing you and knowing that you would never be able to stay all bloom out and burst out of my stupid skull with panting jagged movements and i hold on to anything that can just stay still and catch me
its like the ducks at a carnival floating around in a kiddie pool
bobbing around idiotically
eyes wide and thick lashed
waiting to be caught