it’s all passing by some cool january morning
swept through the feathers in your hair on a chilly, sun brushed afternoon
he blinks, the light in his eyes, pushes it away and steps closer
pockets of sun that spilled out on the sidewalk become my only point of focus,
and i can’t look at you
it’s the same knock on the door, and the bell that never rang
and i still can’t say how we haven’t started while the end already came
on nights with the moon pooling around my ankles
and dark eyes with the shadow flicking along your tongue
it’s not the pills in your cup of your coffee
or the cigarette-spit etched across your lip
needed a wake up call?
how about a new name, one that doesn’t send shivers
all down the spine and across the page?
i’ll settle for a warm morning and a pocket full of change
and whatever you do, don’t tell me what happens next.
