For the ones lost in the continuity of time
Butterfly clips
Everything comes and goes
Butterfly clips dotted heads when I grew up
Everyone adored the clips
Curls and strings held back by butterflies
Bottle cap shots with giggles
Knee scrapes with bandaids
Yearning for love with tears
Slamming doors at being named
Everything comes and goes
Everything comes back round
Shots are still shared with giggles
Bandaids are plastered on our hearts
Tears are shed behind slammed doors
Butterfly clips return
They dot funky hairstyles
They scream at me for my past
Butterfly clips fly me back
I was a child cutting with scissors
A happy child with led sadness
I was a child with butterfly clips
I am an adult sowing with thread
A melancholic adult with trapped sunlight
I watch others with their butterfly clips
Everything comes and goes
Everything comes back round
Everything departs with waves
A clock in hand (co written by Dylano)
If I had a clock in my hand
Time would be at my command
Distance and reflexes are defined by me
But my mind pays the price
And perhaps Jim knew best
A second contains a year
A moment a lifetime
An hour, a generation
No wrinkles or white hairs,
but centuries in eye
No seconds gone by,
but memories in mind
No duties bound by deadlines,
but no meaning to time
If I had a clock in my hand
I'd bottle the seconds with you
An addict off of a memory
But the bliss of a drug lasts only so long
First kiss fades away
Best friend turns into sand
First love blows in the wind
Best laugh runs down the hallway
The heart is mended before being broken
A scream snuffed out before coming out
The vase is nocked back onto the table
Old posters creep up the wall
If I had a clock in hand time would be mine
A perfect life just a second in the past
A mask of a dream hides the traveller
Lonely nights build on lies are spent on tiled floor
A stumble that resulted in a broken foot is taken back
The late hospital night disappears
The anecdote fades from reality
The confessions on painkillers die
If I had a clock in hand
I would shatter it
I shatter it
I will shatter it
If I had a clock in hand
I would catch it and
I would drop it
YOU ARE READING
Saudade
PoetrySaudade /saʊˈdɑːdə/ noun: saudade; plural noun: saudades (especially with reference to songs or poetry) a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia that is supposedly characteristic of the Portuguese or Brazilian temperament A gathering of my po...
