It is the dashing, flickering sunlight past the naked trees' silhouettes I liken to a film reel.
I watched a sunset and I was enamored with my hand cutting through the night air.
The lot of my mind spilled out onto the street
and shone its own gleam in passerby headlights.
Growing fast and dimly into a state of melancholy,
I took a moment and a pause.
*Now I wonder
Where the blunder,
Had come from?
What was done?*
It's always been:
I find you at the broken end of each thought;
Steadfast and quiet, you're the horizon that I look to.
We met in the flickering strobelights of hesitation; greeting too close a depth that made us wonder unready, we fled.
I stepped into insomnia with thoughts spun in horror.
Met by my nightmare ghost leaning, I give a kiss of contempt.
I can understand that which is left to me in the dark.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC
It is the dashing, flickering sunlight past the naked trees' silhouettes I liken to a film reel.
I watched a sunset and I was enamored with my hand cutting through the night air.
The lot of my mind spilled out onto the street
and shone its own gleam in passerby headlights.
Growing fast and dimly into a state of melancholy,
I took a moment and a pause.
*Now I wonder
Where the blunder,
Had come from?
What was done?*
It's always been:
I find you at the broken end of each thought;
Steadfast and quiet, you're the horizon that I look to.
We met in the flickering strobelights of hesitation; greeting too close a depth that made us wonder unready, we fled.
I stepped into insomnia with thoughts spun in horror.
Met by my nightmare ghost leaning, I give a kiss of contempt.
I can understand that which is left to me in the dark.
Sometimes, you get blindsided by the past.
