I’m running out of air. Glass beside in depth of myself and drifting with the tide. Leaving at the altar, she’s listening as someone sings. Chained to entertained in wrong. A thousand tiny pieces only to shove them underneath a faint whisper. Cold gray, the curtain lifts and behold, my winter’s wish comes crashing in. Dare not ask for more, we seek comfort in liability. 25 memories wasted on 2 dividing ways, the right and wrong of my arrival. Have not uncover the corpse before it finds peace. I find answers in the dark. Putting the fear of god in me with the wit of a gentleman and the sins of a child. A silence deaf to those surrounding a box of charmless words kept close, because I’ve held on so tight that I just might break.
Gut feeling crept up and surprises me. It’s a wonder I can barely stand to look death in the eyes, for I know the strength of it’s strangle by heart. My eyes play windmills for the lonely and bothered. The mother of my only miracle, I cradle. Wept hours before the tock and the ticks became loud. Enough time to run for miles, love to stay within arms distance. Only so much space left to mourn to an operator.
To be fresh and new, several shades of intimidation.
Simplicity is a suckerpunch, and if there were a time.
When memories reminisce with you or without you
and love were to lay at your feet;
bask in it. I wish I still could.
