I am the doe-eyed, dark-skinned, digger of dreams,
But you’re dying to drown under what you think that might mean,
Forgetting that wings can glide over seas,
That you jumped off the moon and soared over the trees.
So now you’ve lost your light heart and those wings that you found,
At war with yourself and confined to the ground.
So now with veins full of winter you’re dragging sandbags through the mud,
Chanting through clenched teeth, “After me comes the flood”,
Wall out those lost waves, hide behind opal hearts,
We’ll tell knights from knaves when these oceans fall apart.
And keep your Moscow lips pursed over all your fake thoughts,
‘Til your chariot’s a hearse, or you’re outlined in chalk.
But cracks form in dams. Give it time, it’s fate.
And you’ve got your fingers in all the pies so that levee’ll have to wait.
And I know I can be jealous, but you can go your own way,
As long as you come and find yourself before your dying day,
And I don’t want to preach, lord knows I ain’t no preacher,
And I don’t want to teach, lord knows I ain’t no teacher,
Cause to teach you’ve got to know and I know nowt.
But can’t we learn together? Can’t we figure ourselves out?
Actually hold up a minute, hold up a minute, sorry...
I’m pretty sure this piece ain’t even about you and me,
But we both know my past left me blind to truth and irony.
So why don’t we talk?
Why don’t we talk?
I don’t think we’ve ever just... talked.
See me, writing hundreds of these (fucking) poems about/to you/me,
Whilst you lock your heart behind those worthless words you speak so freely,
So let your levee loose onto these fertile fields forever,
to keep calm in the city, and keep calm together.
And though I can’t be your dam, I’ll strain to help you stop,
But that pressure you put me under made my (fucking) ears pop!
So why don’t we go back to the way things we’re,
When we we’re all chewed pen lids, and Jesus without the myrrh.
Sitting cross-legged and carefree,
Bright-eyed and barely
aware of the glare of any feelings but glee.
Yeah, we took it for granted. Until time came
That smiles only arrived wet-eyed, and wine stained.
So now we lose the best of us in alcohol and lies,
But I’m yearning, relearning to lose myself in conversation and your eyes.
Hoping to holiday in childhood, smiling just to smile,
Learning to live for a living like before sadness was our style,
And rehearsed indifference tripped our tongues too soon,
as we passively pot-shot each other’s wrongs under streetlights and the moon.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is...
We both miss who you used to be,
Miss your sweet sober smile, and seeing you flying free.
So I’ll keep your wings in my back pocket, with this old broken notebook,
So that when you remember what an angel is, you’ll know where to look.
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