This story begins and ends
in a place that does not exist
darling, I didn't listen to this song enough
there's a graze under my ribs I should feel
but there is nothing,
only the aftermath of a sunset
you are one year older yet
you are seventeen forever
severe tranquility aged youth
heartbeats sweat,
something's ripped inside your chest
you are still alive
It’s not so bad to grasp anything
that doesn’t look like sunshine
you are moonlight, waxen frowns, muddied shoes
the tremors in my toes
where are you in the mountains?
come back, come home.
I think these bleach scrubbed walls
will hold the memory of how
I have always longed to look you in the eyes
and wished for something more
this place will always make my heart leap
it has been a year and all I can think about is
how much I have waited on a boy so beautiful
every time I look at him I feel something in my chest give way.
This is the tragedy of falling in love
a whirlpool of desolation
and an abysmal sadness
somewhere in the mountains
you think you hear someone calling out your name
It’s me, I’m here
and this story will end when you come home.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
This story begins and ends
in a place that does not exist
darling, I didn't listen to this song enough
there's a graze under my ribs I should feel
but there is nothing,
only the aftermath of a sunset
you are one year older yet
you are seventeen forever
severe tranquility aged youth
heartbeats sweat,
something's ripped inside your chest
you are still alive
It’s not so bad to grasp anything
that doesn’t look like sunshine
you are moonlight, waxen frowns, muddied shoes
the tremors in my toes
where are you in the mountains?
come back, come home.
I think these bleach scrubbed walls
will hold the memory of how
I have always longed to look you in the eyes
and wished for something more
this place will always make my heart leap
it has been a year and all I can think about is
how much I have waited on a boy so beautiful
every time I look at him I feel something in my chest give way.
This is the tragedy of falling in love
a whirlpool of desolation
and an abysmal sadness
somewhere in the mountains
you think you hear someone calling out your name
It’s me, I’m here
and this story will end when you come home.
