Closing Time

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

Seventy Times Seven

So is that what you call a getaway?
Tell me what you got away with.
'Cause I've seen more spine in jellyfish,
I've seen more guts in eleven-year-old kids.
Have another drink and drive yourself home.
I hope there's ice on all the roads.
And you can think of me when you forget your seatbelt,
And again when your head goes through the windshield.

Is that what you call tact?
You're as subtle as a brick in the small of my back,
So let's end this call, and end this conversation.
And is that what you call a getaway?
Tell me what you got away with.
'Cause you left the frays from the ties you severed,
When you say, "best friends means friends forever".

Second Best.

I love no one but you, I have discovered.
But you are far away and I am here alone.
Then this is my life, and maybe however unlikely,
I'll find my way back there.

Or maybe, one day, I'll settle for second best.
And on that same day, hell will freeze over,
The sun will burn out,
And the stars will fall from the sky.

Cosmic Love.

A falling star, fell from your heart,
And landed in my eyes.

I screamed aloud, as it tore through them,
And now it's left me blind.

And in the dark, I can hear your heart beat,
I tried to find the sound.

But then, it stopped, and I was in the darkness,
So darkness I became.

I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map,
And knew that somehow I could find my way back.

Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too,
So I stayed in the darkness with you.

The colours bright red and baby blue.

And my skin will rot but my energy will not. My heart will stop but my soul will not. My hopes will turn to ash but my ghost will not. My bones can break but my matter cannot. My moments will end but their marrow will not. One day I will die, but there are parts of me that cannot.

Violent Femme

He came in the fall, turned red and yellow with the leaves. He taught me how to swim in the cold water. I did ballet for him in the lake. Plié-ed and revlie-ed in the shallow end until our skin was soft like bible pages.

We’d sit in the mud, water dripping from our hair. Each drop reflecting light, I’d pretend they were lost stars. Made wishes on each drip.

Me and the woods would hold our knees to our chin, listen carefully when he’d tell us secrets of some galaxy, stories of kings and gods. Watched his fingers trace pictures in the dirt, make universes, draw the elements.

Said “It’ll tell us how, but never what.” His body, cold from the water that turned his skin into powder, would lean closer with his eyes calling out mine, and me and the woods would stop breathing to make sure we caught whatever he was going to say. “We always want to know what,” he told me.

And even after we rode our bikes home, ankles covered in dust and weeds with the red afternoon light burnt out of our heads, I still thought he was wrong. With his dirty finger nails and serious eyes. I didn’t want to know what. I needed to know why.