(no subject)
I can't imagine what sort of place you must be from, or how it is that you don't notice everyone has moved on from TV and radio, the same way they've moved on from side ponytails or expectations of sincerity. I am learning not to be surprised that you speak a dead language, and I hold my tongue because I don't want to ruin the ending for you. You are the last tree reaching delightedly upwards for all the vivid promise of life, for all the world as if you didn't recognize that you are surrounded only by pavement until the oceans and that it is only a matter of time before the bulldozers realize their mistake.
I am not the person to speak with anymore, and no one finds the silence more uncanny when I realize how long it has been since I called those feelings home, since I swore to god that some things were worth saving.
You are an anachronism, but it is far too late now.
I am not the person to speak with anymore, and no one finds the silence more uncanny when I realize how long it has been since I called those feelings home, since I swore to god that some things were worth saving.
You are an anachronism, but it is far too late now.