I am no stranger to bewilderment.
I recall many moments lost in time.
Staring into the swirls of milk in my coffee, lost in its dance.
I've seen the sunrise for five consecutive mornings. The purple and orange hues set against drastic grays; you and that damned smile are in the forefront. Your hair was blown in front of your face, just enough to disguise the moment. One more morning such as this one, and I get to rest. Seventh day. Maybe I will have forgotten all about it when I wake. But you really love to creep into my darkness don’t you?
I haven’t been behind a hearts camera in a while. Even when I was they were after school specials. I have never been John Cusack until the sun rose in the right spot; you smiled at the right time. Outside the diner, I was holding a stereo over high over my head.
My life is a constant corner. But tonight you’re driving. Tonight your wheels screech as we slide slightly to the right. I would not be surprised if you hung out of the window with a large handgun, screaming “Freedom” as you fire at the sun. All so we could have maybe 5 more minutes of darkness.
Maybe this is who I am. Maybe I was born to be devious. I don't set out to tiptoe. I just strive to walk beside my friends. If they happen to be walking leisurely through alleys and ducking under open windows, I'll be right beside them. I love my friends.
Or do you? Can you even say that with that blood on your lips? How can you be a thief of hearts and not notice yours being lifted as you sleep. This queen, the one with the 100-year-old soul, she is to blame. With her “pretty eyes and pirate smile” she has placed you in a wooden box, buried deep in the sand on a desert island.
Be a treasure Boy, Be a prize.
And the kiss, well that was just the “X” on the map. Your breath ran from the room to catch up with hers. Touching her neck as her lips dance across your face. Feel her pulse.
You need to know that she is going to be alive when you pull away.
I don't want to sit here and think of these things. I don't want to type about you for hours. I don’t want to think about being a villain or a hero. It’s just those little tiny gems that fall out of your mouth. They should be set into jewels and kept in glass cases. Do you know that? I’ve seen one million girls, but you may be the first that I’ve met with fangs.
This world is so strange. The way humans and their tiny circles continue dancing together, long after the song has stopped.
You may dance to that song again, but it will never, ever sound the same.
I have backed my way into your corners. A place I am not supposed to be at this moment. I for bayed myself to think of some. But it's pretty amazing how your mind has a mind of it’s own. I think in sentences, photographs and instance. I create moments and sit quietly under apple trees, waiting for them to happen. Maybe that’s why you show yourself more often, threefold, like a comic book strip. Just as silly, but still pretty beautiful.
I recall many moments lost in time.
Staring into the swirls of milk in my coffee, lost in its dance.
I've seen the sunrise for five consecutive mornings. The purple and orange hues set against drastic grays; you and that damned smile are in the forefront. Your hair was blown in front of your face, just enough to disguise the moment. One more morning such as this one, and I get to rest. Seventh day. Maybe I will have forgotten all about it when I wake. But you really love to creep into my darkness don’t you?
I haven’t been behind a hearts camera in a while. Even when I was they were after school specials. I have never been John Cusack until the sun rose in the right spot; you smiled at the right time. Outside the diner, I was holding a stereo over high over my head.
My life is a constant corner. But tonight you’re driving. Tonight your wheels screech as we slide slightly to the right. I would not be surprised if you hung out of the window with a large handgun, screaming “Freedom” as you fire at the sun. All so we could have maybe 5 more minutes of darkness.
Maybe this is who I am. Maybe I was born to be devious. I don't set out to tiptoe. I just strive to walk beside my friends. If they happen to be walking leisurely through alleys and ducking under open windows, I'll be right beside them. I love my friends.
Or do you? Can you even say that with that blood on your lips? How can you be a thief of hearts and not notice yours being lifted as you sleep. This queen, the one with the 100-year-old soul, she is to blame. With her “pretty eyes and pirate smile” she has placed you in a wooden box, buried deep in the sand on a desert island.
Be a treasure Boy, Be a prize.
And the kiss, well that was just the “X” on the map. Your breath ran from the room to catch up with hers. Touching her neck as her lips dance across your face. Feel her pulse.
You need to know that she is going to be alive when you pull away.
I don't want to sit here and think of these things. I don't want to type about you for hours. I don’t want to think about being a villain or a hero. It’s just those little tiny gems that fall out of your mouth. They should be set into jewels and kept in glass cases. Do you know that? I’ve seen one million girls, but you may be the first that I’ve met with fangs.
This world is so strange. The way humans and their tiny circles continue dancing together, long after the song has stopped.
You may dance to that song again, but it will never, ever sound the same.
I have backed my way into your corners. A place I am not supposed to be at this moment. I for bayed myself to think of some. But it's pretty amazing how your mind has a mind of it’s own. I think in sentences, photographs and instance. I create moments and sit quietly under apple trees, waiting for them to happen. Maybe that’s why you show yourself more often, threefold, like a comic book strip. Just as silly, but still pretty beautiful.
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