Deep within
A genie bottle you and I
Are forever snapping
At wishbones, but neither one
Of us gets the middle wish.
Sent into a plume of empty smoke
That leaves us spent and separated.
I wonder how many dandelions
You dedicate to me.
Dust falls upon our cut pinkys
We lay wasted and dry of all
Childhood promise games,
There's nothing left but to
Pluck out each individual eyelash.,
Our lungs forcing one towards
Another hopeless, begging wish.
We deserve no more pain.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
Deep within
A genie bottle you and I
Are forever snapping
At wishbones, but neither one
Of us gets the middle wish.
Sent into a plume of empty smoke
That leaves us spent and separated.
I wonder how many dandelions
You dedicate to me.
Dust falls upon our cut pinkys
We lay wasted and dry of all
Childhood promise games,
There's nothing left but to
Pluck out each individual eyelash.,
Our lungs forcing one towards
Another hopeless, begging wish.
We deserve no more pain.
Perhaps it's all superstition or false hope, but god... It warms the heart doesn't it.
