Thursday, April 21, 2011

Circa 2000

I Can't Believe You Did This Again

I've always wanted
to lay with you on the front lawn
Until all the grass dies beneath us
and all that's left
are our beautiful silhouettes.
Like a crime scene.
Because that's what this has been all along;
A crime scene.

The debris of this
lays everywhere.
But you still decided to give it another go,
because you didn't burn enough stuff to the ground the first time.
You're the dust on my mantle
and tv
and between my books now.
You're just dust now.
There's nothing I can hold onto.

And I used to think
we were something solid.
Mortared Stone.
Things you need welders and hot iron and giant hammers
to even chip away at.
But now I can't even feel you
when you're on my finger tips.

I guess that's good.
Everyone says it is.
It is for the best but I still miss you
and those upside down things
we said to each other.
But you're just dust now.
I can wipe you clean,
but you'll build up again.
You'll just build up again and coat this all in ashes.
I just know it.

No comments:

Post a Comment