One summer morning, I woke and smelled the promise of a warm day.
One warmish evening, we spoke and saw the promise of a love to stay.
Sure enough, the day was warm, and pleasant, so much better than I thought.
Sure enough the love was long, so perfect, that I couldn’t get enough.
Then the sun was sinking down, was lower in the sky
Then my heart was breaking down, and slipping off its high
Looking up, into the sky, the storm clouds rolling over
Looking up, into his eyes, they slowly ceased to smoulder
The breeze was getting stronger, getting colder all the while
The nights were seeming longer, and it hurt too much to smile
Soon enough, the warm gave in, the rain began to pour
I silently sit by the window
staring deep into the night sky.
Hoping for something
to crash down from the heavens,
distracting me from my thoughts
at least for a little while.
Disappointed I close my eyes
waiting for a sound
to steal the pictures from my mind.
Praying for a breeze to
wrack a shiver down my spine.
So instead I consentrate on
keeping my heart rate down when
I get that feeling of butterflies in
my stomach.
Asking them to be calm and
This feeling mounds inside me
I feel it moving
I want a love I felt inside
The water moving through me
I'm moving through heavy water
The love is enormous
Its lifting me up
Through clouds and skies
Sunlight and air
But I feel better wadding through tidal waves,
Where the deepest currents flow
I opened up a mirror,
Before me was true love,
I felt the water raining slowly,
Water rising up over my head
I'm moving through heavy water,
Its killing me,
To not know what could of been,
Having a brain without a head,
But I still move forward.
My feet scrap the ground,
My head looking down,
I have only a mistake that can't be fixed.
But I still move forward.
I thought I couldn't live,
Without you by my side,
Though now you aren't,
But I still move forward.
I walk a lonely street,
One where two people should meet,
But there is only one set of feet,
But I still move forward.
you told me I'm pretty in this sweater
soft basil green, 57 percent polyester
i feel something bubble and fester inside
every colour seems to remind me of you
and every song, and every second ticking on
i wish you could see every colour in me too
but my love isn't grown in flower meadows
it doesn't bloom when the rain pours down
it's heavy, it'll stick to every surface it can
and never washes off until it's just too much
my sweet little sweater, 57 percent polyester
and i gave more than what i really am to you
i want a kiss to just be a kiss and not more
a kiss that isn't a sealed scarlet envelope
inviting you to the rest of everything i am
i just want sweet gentle loving with you
After a while, things stop getting cute, not an enjoyable
Show.
Ups and downs, twist and turns, yet somehow I always came back to you and you to
Me.
No calls, no messages, no signal
That
Would at lest give me some idea if I still mattered.
You
Talk all big, saying things that I waited so long for you to say.
You tell me that you
Care.
But honestly? That's getting harder and harder to believe.
You're
Someone that I constantly thinking about.
Plaguing my head, invading my thoughts.
Small fantasies and dreams of us that slowly start
Breaking.
My heart, once mine, has started to betray
Me,
Going to war with my mind.
Telling me to forget you, to embrace you.
Two sides, ripping, tearing me
Apart,
All because of my feelings. My feelings of you.
I offered you my hand.
You reached out for it.
And stopped.
You couldn't take it.
Why is that?
Why is that I'm ready to give you my everything and you're not?
It's not fair.
I'm ready to sacrifice, to throw myself away for you.
Yet you won't do the same.
I'm starting to doubt.
Are you really worth it?
Because it sure doesn't seem like you are.
You've hurt me too much.
I've been ignored.
I've been given pain.
I'm now confused and depressed.
If I died right now.
At this very moment.
Would you care for me then?
A boy with a waistcoat on hand,
a girl with her workout grin
built a complicity
that taught us to love
the way one intuits to mold a vessel
or to use the innocence's edge
to make a chunk of it and
to shatter on it.
That was the first love
A pleasure for betraying us
as we would never do it again,
following the radio's dial
'til we awake one dawn with rancor
dubious against whom or what
That used to be the first love
A time where taking risks
Our parents bind a riband in the forehead
rivaling some type of blessing.
We smile as still smiles-
the Bolivian Football team's poster
covering a void in the dining room.
Nothing surprises in a first match.
At a fair time you recognize who wants more:
To win the ball and the right to win the ball,
To blow the candles while shredding your lungs,
To find gifts under the pine without a name and a claimer,
To date the girl who changed seats in class,
shifted school, moved out of town to finally remember you,
To drink the rum that someone left in the counter bar
thinking of you along the bum that watches his car,
To have fame in the hood of being who should not be
or having kicked that ball at a fair time.
The taciturn howl
to abandon your home.
The "last" pitch of
the thesis presentation,
against the broken mirror.
The shift on your accent
from every tripped up job.
The search for a familiar face,
reverted through the chai tea,
facing the boulevard or the grandma's sewing machine.
The fervent believe in love
like one who believes a speech
within the stomach's roar.