Blown out.
Toned down.
Bit nails.
Tooth rot.
Raining out.
Window open.
No words.
Sundown.
We move towards earth.
Rehearse.
Change my words.
A little different.
I caught a bird.
Fake submission.
Window half open.
This only turns and turns.
Knowing, I know love don't come so soon.
Rain out, still leave the window half open.
Flowing, tar black avalanche.
This only makes me think-
I got the invitation once it made me so glad.
Now I wait replaying for a few months in stead.
And I want but I can't go back.
Anymore than I can forget.
And this doesn't make me feel good.
No it doesn't make me smile anymore.
There is something in the seizing marked to draw it even closer 'til we fall.
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