To the red hot fires who die every night as they put delights to bed
And cradle a crisp old secret
That reminds them of home
I pick you tonight
You unloved creature of passionless nights
I pick you for adventures meant for the prettier ones
The less afraid
I pick you for the happy ending
And while the other triers are pretending
I pick your plain spotty humourless expression
I pick your fear
I pick your kisses
I pick your stuttering goodbyes
And your stumbling hellos
I pick your crumpled up heart that you put in a bottle
And wistfully sent off to sea
I pick the shade were we can lie
As we promise to never tell another
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC