a little tug tells if its still attached to yours, or if its untied.
though the connection feels weak and no messages have been received in days, the firm tug back warms every inch of my body.
eyes never meet, nor do our fingertips
hearts never touch, far from your vagrant lips
cradled in the memory that once was in front of me
turning pages backwards to read when our hearts were free
deserted in your reminiscence though connected through resistance
i find flowers blooming in your eyes when you remember it's real,
your branches reaching out with wings, flying over consequence
because its surreal
bizarre
unusual
strange
freakish
uncanny
dreamlike
unearthly
that we exist together.
tender is your kiss that gets sent by night and hollow is your heart when the time isn't right
i feel you for certain, but quite in the mist-
you have untied the string from your heart and tied a bow on your wrist
days when you switch back, my wrist better my heart
yet finding a hole in the time of this world to pull both sides of the string apart-
blue moons come and go and we wait
and wait
fate can wait
and wait
we'll wait
until wait is late
and fate mistakes
friends for mates
and love for hate
and proud for shame
and real for game.
by night, i'll tug on the string and hope that it tugs back. my eyes will rest as my heart will nest in the colors of whats left of the sunset.
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