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Hands, plural to make us one Near the end of August the heat told me to stop It's vicious, wanting you No milder than the jaws of winter And every person not you cuts On the street, our wounded lips Before October and on silver screens Your face projected on everything You wanted the cinema, I thought So I spoke fumbled niceties at your door But the camera was stuck in my eye And the words I scripted shifted into your mouth The breaths I take, the breaths I shout Your smile corroded in the rain Your endless longing, My endless shame It keeps me in this thought That what I feel has no name But the credits crept up with the dregs of December Money is noisy, and I liked your quietudes But the snow will blanket my blood-buoyant bright And I will drown into night To lay by you until dawn To lay by you until you are gone
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Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
Quiet Cinema by Charlotte Johansen and Joshua Haines
Hands, plural to make us one Near the end of August the heat told me to stop It's vicious, wanting you No milder than the jaws of winter And every person not you cuts On the street, our wounded lips Before October and on silver screens Your face projected on everything You wanted the cinema, I thought So I spoke fumbled niceties at your door But the camera was stuck in my eye And the words I scripted shifted into your mouth The breaths I take, the breaths I shout Your smile corroded in the rain Your endless longing, My endless shame It keeps me in this thought That what I feel has no name But the credits crept up with the dregs of December Money is noisy, and I liked your quietudes But the snow will blanket my blood-buoyant bright And I will drown into night To lay by you until dawn To lay by you until you are gone
joshua-haines
Written by
26/M/American
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
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