i once had a window that owned the room
we stole pensive glances at you; asleep
what is that to me? when all that i own is
loving you
on clamouring cliffsides we bespoake
in between faces of glass and smoke
but what does it matter? now I have
let you; now I have let you
I can't keep on loving you any more
It gets too dang'rously close to suicide
I can't keep on loving you any more
I'd let my heart hemorrhage instead
I can't keep on loving you any more
I'd write in letters: but letters are smoke
I remember in former days
walking into the park
you'd let me hold your hand,
it was only natural
the young men would
stop and stare
You accuse me rightly: I never knew you
I simply found you
She was my angel
But I never loved her like you,
There's nothing left of you
except pieces of cloth ten years old
to burrow my lungs
- Liza Cain
- east of eden
- the only strand of communication between brother, sister, companion, lover, hater, observer is a two line telegram.
3 comments:
jenna, sometimes i think i am the product of a nuclear plant exploding near my parents' house
(okay, this wasn't supposed to be insulting) and then i remember you, and i realize we are not abnormal, just supranormal. in other words i love you.
that had nothing to do with your post, but i was feeling liable to burst with love if i did not tel you. it is out now! the end.
tell*
it sounded less insulting and more self-spective. but thank you. i feel unworthy of your love.
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