his words carried further
deeper
on my way to heaven
please please please
let me hold on to
all of my
all of our memories
soaring higher than sora
to a kindom where our hearts
never die
please please please
on my
on our way to heaven
Tag: Lovers
playoff game
we lost.
we were barely playing,
showed up late
cussed each other out
finished strong
too not show up when it mattered most;
it’s not all you
i know the ball could have been better
not perfect, just better
we were never perfect
just humans
showing up each game
playing for our lives
knitted sweater
your warmth, was taken for granted
applied for a loan, yet you passed it.
already gone-
chances of a revival;
last night you came into my dream
last night you were a dream,
to bring a few words
chances of a revival:
the second coming
your rebirth is here.
awaken
looked out the window
the peep hole
nothing
a night in Santorini
just stay an extra night
will waive the fee
the loose change
free of charge round trip flight
on your love)
docile disguises
drifting in the clouds;
some days i’ll rest this pen,
like eyeballs on a pillow,
n’ let the words come
from writing on a wall
subconscious love
existing on an edge made of paper planes
flying(
faulty timing
shape up or she’ll be gone
listen up, if you were a man
you’d know what’s going on at home
“your” home- nothing but a coward
nothing is what roams these halls
calls to you in the night
reads to you in the dark-
it’s frosty in this bed
our bed
the one we share
just never at the same time
shy
i know you’re shy
you won’t leave the house without a coat
you won’t answer the phone with a hello
but with a what can i do for you
you won’t lean forward without a wire
you’re a smooth criminal
final ballet
words don’t travel as they use to
blocked by mountains
scared of river beds
drowning in wastelands
bringing death, to her knees
singing her song
that sweet
last song
your song
this dream-
the one that calls me in the morning
eats with me at lunch
and crawls into my sheets every night-
i remember our first dance
to Maroon 5 in a gym
now we slow dance to Elton John
i miss my wife
but this life
swipes my throat like a pup’s belly.
treasure;
Saint's Muse 