It feels so wrong to put these words here,
you beside the she,
so, here it goes,
anyhow...
Hey other love, I
finally got down to those other long shores, the
ones you waded upon long ago, floated there
followed them in time like you knew I always would,
called out to the open ocean with a song and a prayer
and a hope that all this would make sense somehow; could matter.
That the ink can't fall from the page, drain down the short table to
stain my shirt as it wound its way to way to the wooden floor.
Dribble off as I got lost in these tall mists, dreaming again -
that the shore wouldn't go on and on or that in my clumsiness I
would fall or jump right in, same as then, same as always.
That shattered hearts really cant do much more than break
and break and break and break,
or fall in beside the rushing waves that call to claim them.
Though your dead now in oh so many awful, so terrible of ways
though your lip is a sneer along with a mind that makes a
snarl at all the thoughts spinning round from the broken days
alongside the though of him, of me, of my voice shaking, I still
wish to say these things still mattered. I hear (heard?) you -
the days they didn't drift off outwards totally into oblivion.
You're a flashback along a reel on the one film being screened in town, sure
(nothing then to borrow, every inch only to hold, to listen, to follow somehow)
...but the land here is beautiful in a way that your soft feet would know,
once felt here, may (hopefully) do so again, as on my heart
carved out a space, then echoed out to a place where any who
looked or tried or even dared could find them.
No more adieus you fool - not from this simple man, or any others
Its not, shouldn't ever be though of as any form of....of...of...
Fuck your weakness, fuck your entitled sense of harassment, you'll
grow one day to see that other love takes on many forms...
Good luck.
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