Fingerprints on a foggy window
Being told you are wrong, when you already know
Rose petals floating on still water in a white porcelain basin
Expecting the familiar, when faced with the foreign.
Candles play pretend on a starless night
Measuring the length and width, but forgetting the height
Cigarettes and coffee in the light of the street lamps’ two a.m. yellowish haze
Searching for the nice way to say it, but already knowing the phrase
Cars, buses, bikes, and trains, they sing a song only the city can sing
Staring at the phone and longing so desperately to hear its’ ring.
Photographs of times long gone found in a shoebox under your bed
Covering your ears but the words she said are still ringing in your head.
Music floods the room with sweet keys like those of “Tiny Dancer”
Asking a question, and whispering the right answer
Paint spills over a blank canvas, covering up it’s pale, virgin innocence
Drowning in the poison on your lips at your own expense
But where may I ask; may I ask ‘Where are you?’
Where are you where there are fingerprints on a foggy window?
When were those candles playing pretend on a starless night?
Which city sings the only song it’s ever known?
Who is playing the pianos sweet keys?
What did you do wrong?
And why do you need to know the height?
And if the phone does ring, who will it be?
Tell me in your whisper, what’s the right answer?
I will fill the tub with water and rose petals every night for you
I will make us coffee and smoke cigarettes with you at two in the morning
I will listen to all of the stories behind all those photographs of yours
I will buy you a thousand canvases so long as you paint at least one for me
We can face the foreign together
And you can tell me anything, even if it’s not the nice way to say it, I’ll listen.
I will lay my hands over yours to cover your ears if that will quiet her words.
And I will fill your body with the most powerful, tender love that no amount of poison could ever drown you.
If you would only let me love you.
If only you would let me love you the way that I do.
If only you could trust my words I would show you they’re true
If only, my love, if only I could have you.
"so she’s gay now?"
yeah she turned it all the paperwork last week and her acceptance letter came this morning, it was all pretty sudden
decorate your own soul, instead of waiting
for someone to bring you flowers Jorge Luis Borges, “After a While” (translated by Veronica A. Shofstall)
I’m aware meetmeinwonderrlandd
if u can’t afford pizza u can’t afford me
do you ever just get
that’s my friend