i am falling apart.
i sit alone, with torn garments i can’t bear to throw away,
wonder about a life -more like a pipe dream,
when in reality when we try, we are the type they write sad piano odds about.
i say goodbye,
pulling my sweater close to my chest shivering by the door,
and picture us in a warm place, surrounded by people offering us hands,
dancers moving around us, soft and slower.
whispered words, becoming us.
but i can’t whisper to you, because my voice comes out in screams,
yet all i hear is an orchestra the rest of us could never afford,
only dream of.
we try so hard,
and by the time we’re at the top -we shall be,
i think i’ll have lost you,
to the vines that break the soft stones in the sun.
do lovers, the ones who have love,
that seems as if it’s boundless,
in death that makes it timeless,
live in time, or do they ascend to the stars?
will it ever be that the last time becomes the first time,
as each touch becomes more intense,
because each touch is so much closer to the last time,
when i know you’ll fall into a future you hate.
lingering fingers,
pressed against your soft skin,
who’s soft skin?
hers, hers, hers?
fingers that press with more and more urgency,
arms that wrap tighter and become more frail,
eyes veiled with more and more sadness,
our love could fall to ruins.
inspired by james bond, bad dreams, sufjan stevens, crushes, adele, love, dreams, and some other crap. yes i write poetry and watch spy movies don't ask.
