Inertia brought us here..
I stood here once,
(a vague year passed)
thinking you couldn't let go of me
before I showed you these things, this
Resonant Beauty.
I'm still here, showing it to myself
again and you, I think, don't
think of me much.
I come here now to escape
you, finding endings among
those things that let us once begin.
and I'm glad I moved away,
I'm glad you never held me
to the ground.
finally, one day i may stand here
my future rolled up in my hand...
and i'm sorry if I think of you then.
---
These bed chambers of
strangers, in the guise of necessity,
we sway against eachother;
nameless lovers ride together.
I avert my gaze as our shoulders
meet, and your knee bumps mine.
and orgy of timid
policy, - you pretend to read
or rest your eyes; your mind thick
with the memory of waking up lonely
in hours too early - just to make it here:
our daily secret love next that
we must tell no one (no one) about.
My body works to hold us
in place, keep up this game.
I meet your eyes when I feel
your hand on my back...
"inertia brought me here."
--
our (separate) rooms become much lonelier
in the dark. I wonder what you're doing
to yourself through this little wall we've built--
we could paint it; name it;
caress it with the fiction that we
should be here.
Or cut it down, day by day,
wear away at the yellow plaster
until we can see eachother
naked, asleep
---- as dull as i expected.
You are not alive in dreams
and I much prefer the wall.
--
Our cryptic code: you cry when I'm angry
with you, and tired of the pieces of your "pure soul"
that conflict with my cadence.
When i close my door, I won't talk to you -
our message board speaks truth in
erasable ink that is gone (like the dishes)
by the time I get home.
If someone saw us, would our cynical cheers
confuse them? Could they feel the tension
of another pounding mistake
which I won't admit?
--
I'll argue that it's harder
to while my youth away, drowning
in Knowledge I can't yet place
while you dazzle yourself with
an exempted revolution,
working at the bar.
Silentely I force myself upon truth:
your vacancy will only last you so long,
my youth will persevere as I
drop into context.
--
I look up from my book to find
a family of fallen leaves
in my tea. Have they fallen
there in spite of me, mocking
my wandering mind, to remind me
that cold tea is only rainwater
and fallen leaves..
i puzzle this puddle that has
sprung in my mug
as fall falls upon us.
--
It is not vertigo, but
a horizontal fear i have
of the distance that throbs
between us.
I would rather jump, than run to you.
(a vague year passed)
thinking you couldn't let go of me
before I showed you these things, this
Resonant Beauty.
I'm still here, showing it to myself
again and you, I think, don't
think of me much.
I come here now to escape
you, finding endings among
those things that let us once begin.
and I'm glad I moved away,
I'm glad you never held me
to the ground.
finally, one day i may stand here
my future rolled up in my hand...
and i'm sorry if I think of you then.
---
These bed chambers of
strangers, in the guise of necessity,
we sway against eachother;
nameless lovers ride together.
I avert my gaze as our shoulders
meet, and your knee bumps mine.
and orgy of timid
policy, - you pretend to read
or rest your eyes; your mind thick
with the memory of waking up lonely
in hours too early - just to make it here:
our daily secret love next that
we must tell no one (no one) about.
My body works to hold us
in place, keep up this game.
I meet your eyes when I feel
your hand on my back...
"inertia brought me here."
--
our (separate) rooms become much lonelier
in the dark. I wonder what you're doing
to yourself through this little wall we've built--
we could paint it; name it;
caress it with the fiction that we
should be here.
Or cut it down, day by day,
wear away at the yellow plaster
until we can see eachother
naked, asleep
---- as dull as i expected.
You are not alive in dreams
and I much prefer the wall.
--
Our cryptic code: you cry when I'm angry
with you, and tired of the pieces of your "pure soul"
that conflict with my cadence.
When i close my door, I won't talk to you -
our message board speaks truth in
erasable ink that is gone (like the dishes)
by the time I get home.
If someone saw us, would our cynical cheers
confuse them? Could they feel the tension
of another pounding mistake
which I won't admit?
--
I'll argue that it's harder
to while my youth away, drowning
in Knowledge I can't yet place
while you dazzle yourself with
an exempted revolution,
working at the bar.
Silentely I force myself upon truth:
your vacancy will only last you so long,
my youth will persevere as I
drop into context.
--
I look up from my book to find
a family of fallen leaves
in my tea. Have they fallen
there in spite of me, mocking
my wandering mind, to remind me
that cold tea is only rainwater
and fallen leaves..
i puzzle this puddle that has
sprung in my mug
as fall falls upon us.
--
It is not vertigo, but
a horizontal fear i have
of the distance that throbs
between us.
I would rather jump, than run to you.