Even though it was cold on the floor, cool to the touch
We laid our backs on top of it and stared at the ceiling,
Side by side, our pinkies touching but nothing else, with careful breath.
Your pocket breathed up and down so close to my shoulder that
I could almost feel the weathered flannel whispering against my skin.
We pointed at things in the sky, on my ceiling, in our sky
“It’s cold on here,” you say, and get up
before the moment could match my head
(This was originally supposed to have a happy ending,
Like we kissed,
On the wooden floor,
While Yann Tiersen tinkled away in the background
And traffic threw shapes across our faces, like fleeting bruises
That we brushed away with our hands.
But then all that seemed wrong, and false, like
That kind of good ending wouldn’t actually happen
So I changed it, to make it more real.
He would get up,
Off the floor,
Because he felt cold.
Magic slipped through fingers, then,
Like coy ghosts,
And I would feel terribly lonely for a moment,
Before acting like I didn’t care.)
But then all that seemed wrong, and false, like
That kind of good ending wouldn’t actually happen
So I changed it, to make it more real.
He would get up,
Off the floor,
Because he felt cold.
Magic slipped through fingers, then,
Like coy ghosts,
And I would feel terribly lonely for a moment,
Before acting like I didn’t care.)
3 comments:
i like this blogpost
That was very lovely. Try finishing it, next time - it might make you happy.
i have posted so many of these photos on my blog!!! before i made mine public, i took down 80% of the entries because while i feel they are beautiful and solid, they are very sad and personal and i felt weirdly about going public with it that way. but know i am blown away by our similar aesthetic. it makes me happy. plus, from a dorky astrology sense, you're supposed to be my bff! (i'm virgo) :)
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