I want to write. I feel like writing. And yet, nothing. Oh c’est la vie dans l’université. Pas de temps pour les amours. Trop de temps pour les autres.
The light dances in your eyes – sweet ripples of penance in the fading dawn
I dance in the light.
Chills consume what’s left of consciousness
And I slip, falling, falling, falling
You watch me flail and fight – unflinching
Warmth spreads and heats my palm –
That open fire of our time licking at the iron grate
Don’t you remember? Remember
We walk hand in hand – fitting together seamlessly
And the silent crunching of frozen and forgotten leaves are
Strewn on the ground beneath our feet, like
Puppets. The wind unceremoniously cuts the marionette’s strings.
Once solid now brittle,
The cold of ice rushes over our skin
A twinge leaps across my cheeks – phantoms of our goodbyes.
Our eyes meet for a moment. Single. Solitary. Sweet.
Reaching my hand toward your face
But the soft blanket that waits is replaced by stone.
Delusions. My reluctant eyes emerge from the darkness and I am
How was I convinced once again to take on something that I do not have the time or energy to do. Don’t blame me for being insufficient at something that you all but physically made me do. Sorry.
This song needs to be on repeat for my entire life.