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Sufjan
I wrote this when you’re asleep
Dug some words in the trove of your lips
Awoken, I spoke to you in this borrowed language
Yet, never was I understood.
How many folds should I torture these papers with
So you would notice my beautiful origami?
I made mural from stories of each grand of sand
So you could read them, but to you it’s bland.
I hope you knew how your curls suspended
Like stars in Van Gogh’s painting;
I summoned him; the late artist would’ve begged God
To bring himself to life if he sees you.
I wrote this next to you, and
Between my calculated breath, I hope you heard me,
Struggling to hold my pieces together from an imminent collapse
Your elbow touching my waist would cause.
I hope that I would find myself somewhere
between your love for going home and riding a bus.
Not merely being there with you as chaperone,
Nor as eyes not met upon leaving.
But our had world to cave in;
And I tried to delay the inevitable,
To save the most haunting music I'd ever heard
So I’d be brought back into the memories that I didn’t have.
So, it died even before you knew it had lived in me,
Perished in the same disrupted silence when you breathed.
I didn’t hope we could both grieve over what’s lost.
But sometime in midnights, I hope to meet you downstairs in the rain.
-L
I wrote this when you’re asleep
Dug some words in the trove of your lips
Awoken, I spoke to you in this borrowed language
Yet, never was I understood.
How many folds should I torture these papers with
So you would notice my beautiful origami?
I made mural from stories of each grand of sand
So you could read them, but to you it’s bland.
I hope you knew how your curls suspended
Like stars in Van Gogh’s painting;
I summoned him; the late artist would’ve begged God
To bring himself to life if he sees you.
I wrote this next to you, and
Between my calculated breath, I hope you heard me,
Struggling to hold my pieces together from an imminent collapse
Your elbow touching my waist would cause.
I hope that I would find myself somewhere
between your love for going home and riding a bus.
Not merely being there with you as chaperone,
Nor as eyes not met upon leaving.
But our had world to cave in;
And I tried to delay the inevitable,
To save the most haunting music I'd ever heard
So I’d be brought back into the memories that I didn’t have.
So, it died even before you knew it had lived in me,
Perished in the same disrupted silence when you breathed.
I didn’t hope we could both grieve over what’s lost.
But sometime in midnights, I hope to meet you downstairs in the rain.
-L
| 14,000 mlx | |
| 6 | |
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