Saying things that are implied is only redundant if I am listening,
but my ears have been filled with leaking thoughts
and sounds reserved for when I flip the light switches down.
loop after loop, it all becomes static
his voice is a plant drooping from it's *** melting down the sides
like lava I'm not afraid to touch.
it is still nothing to yours:
Opening my eyes is harder than saying goodbye,
harder than letting go for one cold, shivering moment
even if all I need is enough breath to hold on tighter.
the lines of your soft skin are muted whispers against mine,
and the only visible movement dances colorfully inside of my eyelids.
why is it so hard to
speak when I am left
Alone, where thinking becomes almost excessively easy.
it is too soon to mean it, or even let it float around
while I cry, and wait for you to reach out
and clasp it into the palm of your hand, where it will seep
soak
breathe in as part of your blood;
but the feeling of not being able to convey how much I care
is more taut than a balloon on the verge of eruption.
Please let me listen a little longer,
breathe a little deeper,
tell you things like thank you and ask you things like
why?
because even I don't know sometimes.
Mar 18, 2011
Mar 18, 2011 at 12:13 PM UTC
Saying things that are implied is only redundant if I am listening,
but my ears have been filled with leaking thoughts
and sounds reserved for when I flip the light switches down.
loop after loop, it all becomes static
his voice is a plant drooping from it's *** melting down the sides
like lava I'm not afraid to touch.
it is still nothing to yours:
Opening my eyes is harder than saying goodbye,
harder than letting go for one cold, shivering moment
even if all I need is enough breath to hold on tighter.
the lines of your soft skin are muted whispers against mine,
and the only visible movement dances colorfully inside of my eyelids.
why is it so hard to
speak when I am left
Alone, where thinking becomes almost excessively easy.
it is too soon to mean it, or even let it float around
while I cry, and wait for you to reach out
and clasp it into the palm of your hand, where it will seep
soak
breathe in as part of your blood;
but the feeling of not being able to convey how much I care
is more taut than a balloon on the verge of eruption.
Please let me listen a little longer,
breathe a little deeper,
tell you things like thank you and ask you things like
why?
because even I don't know sometimes.
for a certain dangerous man I've come to know and adore.
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