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kyle-kulsethPoems
Take my hand, we'll fuse our last                     few folding dollars together, and we'll walk our snowbound streets                and try to fend off the cold. Find a place that's too familiar, shivering hands on the door.                Halfway laughing.                    Half a cough      as we protest we're still not old. Break the skin, I'll break the silence.                Sigh and watch our breaths ascend           the frigid night. Tell me, "Show me something beautiful                     or let me leave the light." Now, fill me up. Just sing that tune. Two songs of piling rust.                     I love           the way you croon. I'm just a walking ghost. But what does that make you?            Red-faced or blue?            Two-faced or true?                Do you stay?              Or cry, "Adieu!"? Strike the band, they'll play the last                     few notes of that "Civil Twilight." and we'll speak our foolproof plans                and try to forget the cold. 'Til you say, "That's too familiar." Make your way to the door.                Half a laugh.              caught in throat     I hope they'll draw out that last note. Break the skin, you **** the silence,                     laugh- -ing with descending face                and frozen eyes, saying, "Show me something beautiful                   and let me leave the light."
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Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 7:36 PM UTC
The Last Weekend
Take my hand, we'll fuse our last                     few folding dollars together, and we'll walk our snowbound streets                and try to fend off the cold. Find a place that's too familiar, shivering hands on the door.                Halfway laughing.                    Half a cough      as we protest we're still not old. Break the skin, I'll break the silence.                Sigh and watch our breaths ascend           the frigid night. Tell me, "Show me something beautiful                     or let me leave the light." Now, fill me up. Just sing that tune. Two songs of piling rust.                     I love           the way you croon. I'm just a walking ghost. But what does that make you?            Red-faced or blue?            Two-faced or true?                Do you stay?              Or cry, "Adieu!"? Strike the band, they'll play the last                     few notes of that "Civil Twilight." and we'll speak our foolproof plans                and try to forget the cold. 'Til you say, "That's too familiar." Make your way to the door.                Half a laugh.              caught in throat     I hope they'll draw out that last note. Break the skin, you **** the silence,                     laugh- -ing with descending face                and frozen eyes, saying, "Show me something beautiful                   and let me leave the light."
I'm really happy how this one turned out.
#relationships#friends#loss#people
kyle-kulseth
Written by
kyle-kulseth
M/American
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 7:36 PM UTC
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