Pretending that it was mine.
Tell me, how do you pity
Yourself without drooling?)
A still, a perfect calm
Dusty wooden floors
And melting snow
A day that isn’t happening
Just gone by
He pauses on the phone
And in the silence I hear
A sniffle sucked in
Until it has dripped, like mucus,
At the back of his throat
“It began with the two of us
And it will end that way”
I just didn’t think
It would be so soon
Brush the lint off your breath
And try to look somewhere
But everywhere you turn
It is the last day of summer
I dropped a street, a city, a country
On my way to bliss
But bliss had no address
Why don’t you feather
Those darling tunes of yours
And whistle them by my side
For I have forgotten the taste of bread
And tea and sugar in the morning
Just dream, a little bit more,
And think that it didn’t happen
That it doesn’t happen, and will not happen
Just dream that the night pulled back
And the balcony is rife
With basil blossoms
And hands still brush
Over their sweet sunshine