This was the way it ended: not with fire, But carried quietly under sleep-beds,
I cannot tell you that I want to be intoxicated, inebriated, and stashed away for the rest of eternity while holding your hand at the mediocre fair in the middle of the crowd of ill-mannered school-children who grew up too soon
It said, 'You've brought a return ticket with you friend / Remember, people are not meant to be held onto.'
The mind craves to fly far away. / In the guise of a beggar, eyes wet with tears
The moon is a cheeseball, Cratered, yellow, and huge like your eyeballs
This was the way it ended: not with fire, But carried quietly under sleep-beds,
I cannot tell you that I want to be intoxicated, inebriated, and stashed away for the rest of eternity while holding your hand at the mediocre fair in the middle of the crowd of ill-mannered school-children who grew up too soon
It said, 'You've brought a return ticket with you friend / Remember, people are not meant to be held onto.'
The mind craves to fly far away. / In the guise of a beggar, eyes wet with tears
The moon is a cheeseball, Cratered, yellow, and huge like your eyeballs
Moving mindlessly and / Etching every alley along the way / With verses devoted to you
For all that melts in this month of fallen petals rising, you’re a paperclip, hanging on the edge of my bookshelf, bent into a heart.
