What an obscurity energy
there’s no serenity
A smile is what you’ll never see
All you’ll hear is “In memory”
Not a single ring on the telephone
All you see is the collarbone
Roam through the halls unknown
The reality of being all alone
Not much of color selection
Filled with nothing but imperfections
Always going in the wrong direction
After all it’s just my reflection
I can still hear the slow jam jingle of the ice cream truck gliding along past our yellow house like it was riding on rails
Pick a star, any star & I’ll reach straight up and grab it for you put it right inside your hot little hand we had
for Alex — a golden shovel, after Andrea Gibson The sky is still keening and so am I. What is too many tears? I let
It will probably happen when I’m at work, and he recruits a nosy, but caring friend with an AI-powered search engine. They’ll hush behind a
Your gaze becomes a stare, forcing your views without saying a word. Your eyes tell me a story. One where I fall to the wayside.
