for a short while I thought I could be the girl for you with “love in her eyes and flowers in her hair”. How crazy I was to believe I may actually be capable of softening a heart. You were never a giver of hard looks, only a receiver of soft stares; I was always a reviver of intrepid rebellion, completely infatuated by hushed secrets and brief drives home. When the nights slowed to a near halt we could count on you, strutting like you knew the stars on a first-name-basis. Well none of us do. The pavement may be wet, but that doesn’t mean each step feels less like warm air or cold thoughts. The moon reflects more killing than your eyes; the clock doesn’t tell seasons, but it reads humanity. Somewhere along the way you lost track; I simply held hands with summer for a minute longer. eventually the flowers withered away, but the love is still here - oh, it is all still here.
my words.
"we seldom know what we're hearing when we hear something for the first time, but one thing is certain: we hear it as we will never hear it again. we return to the moment to experience it, I suppose, but we can never really find it, only its memory, the faintest imprint on what it really was, what it meant." - Colum McCann; Let the Great World Spin
• ask.
revolutions.
past passed passings
-
blindingeyes posted this
