When I spiral, it’s no waltz
I don’t fall like autumn’s leaves,
I lack their certain grace;
No -
I plummet like the driving rain
Blowing through cigarette smoke late at night
Is that what you wanted me to tell you? Not quite?
Stop searching for my poetry, it makes my skin crawl.
I’m not your great mystery, your tiny dancer
Your savior or your sin
For the love of god,
don’t stand in the waters at the bottom of this cliff
waiting to catch my fall
Go back and wander through the graveyard of my lovers
And memories of New Jersey,
If you don’t believe me
Let me walk out into the evening, like Auden may have done
I’ll be there to watch when the lovers have left
And the deep river still runs on
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
When I spiral, it’s no waltz
I don’t fall like autumn’s leaves,
I lack their certain grace;
No -
I plummet like the driving rain
Blowing through cigarette smoke late at night
Is that what you wanted me to tell you? Not quite?
Stop searching for my poetry, it makes my skin crawl.
I’m not your great mystery, your tiny dancer
Your savior or your sin
For the love of god,
don’t stand in the waters at the bottom of this cliff
waiting to catch my fall
Go back and wander through the graveyard of my lovers
And memories of New Jersey,
If you don’t believe me
Let me walk out into the evening, like Auden may have done
I’ll be there to watch when the lovers have left
And the deep river still runs on
