Sunday, February 16, 2014


And the end comes too soon, like dreaming of angels...
It's that look from across the room when I clue out the world around me and wonder how long he's been watching me.
That silent contentment when you don't realize just how long and hard you've been smiling 
The glow in your eyes when seemingly uninterested people suddenly come up to you and ask, "what's different about you?"
Long nights outside when you forget it's still winter 
All day together and still not enough time
Daylight between us
Stars in our eyes 
"What is happening?"
It's not the drugs this time...
Not an idea, not a hoax 
What'd you call it?
It's the feeling of a heavy bass grounding your feet on the floor
A million conceivable dreams 
The softest scent lingering on your clothes as a subtle reminder of his delicate neck 
That same record spinning over and over and over and over 
Comparisons to forgotten boys with an obvious remark of, "what was I thinking?"
A shiver when I remember how awful the past was; stupid meaningless nights pining after a feeling that doesn't even come close to this
But it doesn't matter, while it was only a few short months ago, say it was forever ago
Say it all makes sense
Lord Byron, Robert Frost, e.e Cummings
I know what you meant...
Living on air