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Monday, April 12, 2010

That Night on the Swings.

Carry on through the moonlight, believe me doll, this is too right.
Take these knives and bloody holes, stitch me up or let me go.
That night on the swings with me, jot this down in history,
Say the words or sing to me, just keep killing this misery.
It's almost gone, don't stop now. Laugh again to burn it down.
This old brain with this old heart. Tune me up for you.
Throw away the tattered parts and assume I'm something new.
I'm a sad song on a beautiful day. A song you can't remember.
Let's swing away til it all comes back or stay clueless here forever.
I never wanted anything but to be a part of something.
If I ever wanted anything, it was more than good for nothing.
And you've become my everything, watch my wants turn into needs.
Because I need you more than anything and I no longer want to bleed.
I want to see your eyes floating like ghosts in the streetlight.
I want to see you fly, hoping I say every word just right.
Beneath the deadly skies, where it all goes to fade.
Unforgotten memories, upon these swings, we've made.
Deliver all your healing blows to the center of my day.
Kill the sun for the ways he has lied right to my face.
Remind me everyday that it's never what it seems.
But, in fact, it's exactly the way it ought to be.
Just like the way the moon seems to know everything,
Look at me and remind me about that night on the swings.
Don't open your mouth to try and say a word.
One breath, one smile, one kiss, one heart put on reserve.
Waiting in the shadows, formerly unavowed,
within the depths of everything a soul can't do without.
I open up my reservoir and pour everything out.
You cracked the surface, it's time to swim or drown.
The dirt beneath our feet, like dusty memories.
The flowers by the street, like lonely tragedies.
Make this night the final one we ever question what we've done.
Take my life, tie me to you, before we both come undone.
Swing away with me until the world gets sick of us.
And then take me back for some more, because I'll never get enough.

1 comment:

Malysse With Intent said...

Cold, damp night on the playground. Bottle in the sand. Chains leaving that rusty smell on your hands. Hearing your words; swinging higher and higher; pretending I can't hear. Cold seeping into bones. Fingers frozen on metal.

In the end, I cry alone.