SECOND LOVE.
Hand-holding as the stars sing:
I think I am getting older.
I don’t believe that’s the roar of God out there,
it’s probably just the wind or crickets, who don’t
burn so bright and distant; screaming in the dark.
Sound doesn’t travel through vacuums anyway so
it’s funny
that I can still hear you
whispering through my phone.
Didn’t that conversation happen a week ago?
You’re under-cover in your bed-sheets,
hiding from your parents while mine just watch TV.
Again, this is all just memory
where sounds cannot reach us,
but I’m sure you can still hear me
as I tell you that, yes,
I’ve finally written words for you, words for me.
What will happen tomorrow?
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
SECOND LOVE.
Hand-holding as the stars sing:
I think I am getting older.
I don’t believe that’s the roar of God out there,
it’s probably just the wind or crickets, who don’t
burn so bright and distant; screaming in the dark.
Sound doesn’t travel through vacuums anyway so
it’s funny
that I can still hear you
whispering through my phone.
Didn’t that conversation happen a week ago?
You’re under-cover in your bed-sheets,
hiding from your parents while mine just watch TV.
Again, this is all just memory
where sounds cannot reach us,
but I’m sure you can still hear me
as I tell you that, yes,
I’ve finally written words for you, words for me.
What will happen tomorrow?
Let's pretend that her name was, is 'Darjeeling.' Sweet, spicy; warm to the lips.
