Intimate strangers

My baby is gone...

Intimate strangers

 

Moving through hands, like a deck of cards

Always face down

Seeing the creases in the sheets

I dream they move like waves

I almost feel free again

 

I miss falling

Saying love in every language

I hate learning that death sounds just as beautiful

Mort

Roll the R’s until you can hear the ache

Your own voice crack

You never even have to say my baby’s gone.

 

He says we aren’t right.

Just another form of intimate strangers

My opinion defers once again

I loved him, with all that I had

With all that I knew

I don’t care who says it was not enough

For a while it meant more than life and that was enough

 

I don’t breakdown anymore

Yet I’m still reminded

His language echo’s in my ears

Until I sigh

I try to find new relevance

Solace in another’s arms

Peace within only one man’s hands

But envy pushes me between so many sets of sheets

 

I have no love

And there is none to be made

Is it crime to long?

Or to be too weak to hold out?

I need the fantasy

I have to hold on to the ethereal

The past may not burden me!

I still want to float!

I still want to float…

The End

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