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 butterfliesBottle cap shots with giggles
Knee scrapes with bandaids
Yearning for love with tears
Slamming doors at being namedEverything comes and goes
Everything comes back round
Shots are still shared with giggles
Bandaids are plastered on our hearts
Tears are shed behind slammed doorsButterfly clips return
They dot funky hairstyles
They scream at me for my past
Butterfly clips fly me backI was a child cutting with scissors
A happy child with led sadness
I was a child with butterfly clipsI am an adult sowing with thread
A melancholic adult with trapped sunlight
I watch others with their butterfly clipsEverything comes and goes
Everything comes back round
Everything departs with wavesA 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 bestA second contains a year
A moment a lifetime
An hour, a generationNo 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 timeIf 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 longFirst kiss fades away
Best friend turns into sand
First love blows in the wind
Best laugh runs down the hallwayThe 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 wallIf 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 floorA stumble that resulted in a broken foot is taken back
The late hospital night disappears
The anecdote fades from reality
The confessions on painkillers dieIf 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...