In this context my honesty isn't cruel, or angry. It isn't made of secrets or songs. It isn't strong enough to carry you down the aisle, or help you with your groceries.It won't swim with it's shirt off or ask you to prom, cos it's too shy, but I'll try.
Cos in this context my honesty is a card-board time machine that lets me climb in and close my eyes thinking of you,to later step out groggily into a bright, shining, silver-glass utopia where it feels like we've spent a lifetime together.
So like next Thursday.
Because in the perfect post-apocalypse of next Thursday,this maze of uncertainty that stretches out before us may have untangled itself to reveal the road we're looking for.
So let me be honest, because I want to say the lamp of your soul ignites the air in my veins, leaving only these arms with the strength to slow you down.
The slow dance of your hips is like wine. Moon colored wine that I will inevitably lose myself in every single day until they put me in a cage for spending all my rent money and food money and tax money on bottles of you.
The slow dance of your hips is like wine. Moon colored wine that I will inevitably lose myself in every single day until they put me in a cage for spending all my rent money and food money and tax money on bottles of you.
I need to tell you this thing you put in my chest feels like an unfettered stampede of sweating summer school children and your walk is like the world's sexiest ice-cream man.
Every time you walk next to me you send an army of red squirrels marching up my arms and neck to seek refuge in the trees of my tangled grove. They have pulled the bones from my skull and the gold from my teeth to build a shrine to you above my head.
In the corner of my quietest heart there is a forest of teeth where time stands still. There I have buried my library of sharp edges and bruised knees to make space in my shelves for all the things I want to show you.
The space between your lips where your smile lives is a prayer to a distant god that will save the universe when the alien bunny people invade in their floppy-eared ships..
You make me want to fall on my knees and believe in god again.
Well, almost.
Every time you walk next to me you send an army of red squirrels marching up my arms and neck to seek refuge in the trees of my tangled grove. They have pulled the bones from my skull and the gold from my teeth to build a shrine to you above my head.
In the corner of my quietest heart there is a forest of teeth where time stands still. There I have buried my library of sharp edges and bruised knees to make space in my shelves for all the things I want to show you.
The space between your lips where your smile lives is a prayer to a distant god that will save the universe when the alien bunny people invade in their floppy-eared ships..
You make me want to fall on my knees and believe in god again.
Well, almost.
But this is how you make me feel.
Like I'm standing at the water's edge, toes dug deep, hoping that the fire in my hands is bright enough to cast your shadow across the sky.
Like I was the sky and you were a river and our destiny was to meet some day to form the ocean.
Like I'm 18 and lost again, trying to summit the mountain peak on a moonless night. Praying that each desperate grasp finds a bit of your skin to hold on to.
Like I'm 14 and stuttering again, my mind moving too fast for tongue and teeth to chase, chained to a midnight train burning hell-fire and moonshine to rocket off the edge of the earth into your arms.
leaving a trail of slow-motion particle effects and screaming passengers.
Like I was the sky and you were a river and our destiny was to meet some day to form the ocean.
Like I'm 18 and lost again, trying to summit the mountain peak on a moonless night. Praying that each desperate grasp finds a bit of your skin to hold on to.
Like I'm 14 and stuttering again, my mind moving too fast for tongue and teeth to chase, chained to a midnight train burning hell-fire and moonshine to rocket off the edge of the earth into your arms.
leaving a trail of slow-motion particle effects and screaming passengers.
Before I walk the trail, I will wear my words like the armor of the sun and wield the bow I found in my grandfathers books to kill the evil dragon stealing your air. I will fire arrow after arrow at the thrones of sleeping kings to set you free that you might hold me in talons between mighty wings and lift us above the storm of the world into a never ending sunset.
So let me be the easy thing in your life, cos I know your life ain't easy.
Lend me the keys to your doors, and Ill be a a thrift shop sweater that loves you like a tailored suit.
Cos if I'm honest, you make me feel like I mean something.
And even if it takes the rest of my life, I mean to return the favor.
So let me be the easy thing in your life, cos I know your life ain't easy.
Lend me the keys to your doors, and Ill be a a thrift shop sweater that loves you like a tailored suit.
Cos if I'm honest, you make me feel like I mean something.
And even if it takes the rest of my life, I mean to return the favor.
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