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By early evening I’d stumbled onto shores of lost adulthood, where wooden lodge overlooks the mountain, and kissed the moon goodnight. And through poor-lit doorway, soft-lit behind, an old friend waved to me, singing songs of love, singing songs I’d love, armchair turned towards the sea. It’s dark, but there’s coffee in the kitchen; there’s bluebells under the windowsill. There was a tenderness beneath his eyes, there was no more poetry. There was a dining table set that night, he’d cooked a Sunday-dinner. I doubt anyone would believe me if I said he looked happy. But did you know I was three months off asking you to marry me? He’s sat by the window and the sun is setting; but I might see you again. Trying to balance, ****** home by myself, in alien cities, was how I spent the next four weeks, while you fell into another. Time to go home, but I ain’t got no home, good friend’s don’t even know, that car’ying shrapnel’s pretty nice, when you got to walk home alone. It’s hard now to remember, but last time I saw you, I was in love with you. The little island in the half-sunk beach was where I stayed that night, was where I loned, got drunk in it, then each day got drunk some more. Wild, the memories we had, but we had enough, for you I knew, she’s long-gone now, this forest has come undone. Ness Boy sat by the window, thinking about those years, watching the end of them.
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Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 4:53 AM UTC
The Little Island in The Half-Sunk Beach
By early evening I’d stumbled onto shores of lost adulthood, where wooden lodge overlooks the mountain, and kissed the moon goodnight. And through poor-lit doorway, soft-lit behind, an old friend waved to me, singing songs of love, singing songs I’d love, armchair turned towards the sea. It’s dark, but there’s coffee in the kitchen; there’s bluebells under the windowsill. There was a tenderness beneath his eyes, there was no more poetry. There was a dining table set that night, he’d cooked a Sunday-dinner. I doubt anyone would believe me if I said he looked happy. But did you know I was three months off asking you to marry me? He’s sat by the window and the sun is setting; but I might see you again. Trying to balance, ****** home by myself, in alien cities, was how I spent the next four weeks, while you fell into another. Time to go home, but I ain’t got no home, good friend’s don’t even know, that car’ying shrapnel’s pretty nice, when you got to walk home alone. It’s hard now to remember, but last time I saw you, I was in love with you. The little island in the half-sunk beach was where I stayed that night, was where I loned, got drunk in it, then each day got drunk some more. Wild, the memories we had, but we had enough, for you I knew, she’s long-gone now, this forest has come undone. Ness Boy sat by the window, thinking about those years, watching the end of them.
backbeatwriter
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Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 4:53 AM UTC
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