Wednesday, January 23, 2013

waiting.

there was a revival on a midtown stage
where the children go to come of age
and they hold their hands straight to the sky
though they're not quite sure the reasons why.

we played the chords and sang the songs
and left behind the righted wrongs
but I heard you whisper in my ear
that we were the only ones left out here.

so you kissed the mic and changed your clothes,
kissed me back and held me close,
pulled the blanket, held my said
while we wondered where others' prayers were said

so here I am, with my white whale
as the blood drains from our collective hearts

my complexion slowly growing pale
amidst false ends and falser starts.

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