Parenthesis

Stacks

And in the clouds we float
                                                     alone
                                                                 smiling.

A decade and seven years old, the perfect age for kissing
– melodies and harmonies –
The musicality in your prose,
in your hugs,
in your respites breathing in the air of the night –
                                                                                                      you're alright.

All purple is the skin we live in,
hiding in a forest with trees made up with our thoughts
– I'm lost in the branches finding a way down –
                                                                                                 I'll grow wings in the fall.

We keep jumping off cliffs, holding hands
– a cold knot tying the ship to ground –
                                                                                  let it fly.
I've seen time and time again how the clocks trick us
into thinking we're in a hurry,
we could just be sitting instead of tripping
                                                                                        – in my opinion –

we're both singing stories; we're both sorry
- leaping –

I love how things that make no sense resonate the best with me,
and this is no exception. Cutting ropes,
living the danger – we're not even attached to safety,
low hopes
– he hopes –

Hanging bridge,
                                  hanging;
out. up. there?
you're a ledge I'm grabbing on, falling
together – only you've yet to realize it.

Solace, an easy part to play
– but I've never been a good actor if the role's too much like me –
I know it gets tiring but it's better this way.

I drink too much coffee,
and you're still the one thing that never fails to keep me up.
You drink too much of me.

So let all the noises absorb you,
                                                                  dissolve and blend in,
                                                                                                                  I love you.

Clockwise heart beats, off tempo
– I'm starting to get a lil' bit out of tune. I'm
starting to get a little gloom. You're
starting to get me in the mood.

for love I'd rather know. I'd
rather not have any of my senses as long as I have music.
Muses.
               Loses.
                              Fuses.

Bow & arrow – pointing at the apple on your head – I've never been this glad.
It's sad – how there's no title to this –, and I'm honestly glad.

I'm my own fool – trying to amuse me to
distract myself from empathy.
                                                                 I was lost.
Long visits – we're ready for us –

A cordial invitation by your blouse,
                                                                         your mouth
– we're singing too loudly –
– we're living too fondly –

Whistling – you're boiling
tea to warm up
                                whiskey to shut up
Lemon & honey
                                and laughing and loving.

french horns in indie songs
other lovers to sing along
crossing fingers, crossing tongues
and we try to be forever young.
                                                                  So far so good.

dance one last song with me – and I won't let go –
I learn from my mistakes and as I do them again,
I shouldn't call them so anymore.