when the story ends








when the story ends month stories
  205
  •  
  0
  •   7 comments
Share

in
in Destination, permanent vacation. ^^
Autoplay OFF   •   14 days ago
I wrote this short poem a while back. It's about bearing the months because you don't know otherwise, like the highs and lows of a relationship. Thank you for reading. :) <3

when the story ends

At night when our breathing slows, I ask you

At night when our breathing slows, I ask you if you feel safe in our house, like the walls

At night when our breathing slows, I ask you if you feel safe in our house, like the walls aren't leaning into our words

At night when our breathing slows, I ask you if you feel safe in our house, like the walls aren't leaning into our words and stealing our characters, but

like we're cocooned in chords and

like we're cocooned in chords and slipping into a drunken choir.

I have my hands on your sweater, you're the boy

I have my hands on your sweater, you're the boy I love.

I have my hands on your sweater, you're the boy I love. You speak to oak trees like they exist,

I have my hands on your sweater, you're the boy I love. You speak to oak trees like they exist, read books like the dust between the pages could grow up

I have my hands on your sweater, you're the boy I love. You speak to oak trees like they exist, read books like the dust between the pages could grow up and swallow you whole.

In the places you're not, although.

In the places you're not, the air;

In the places you're not, the air; it's less of a boulder that's weighing me down.

In the places you're not, the air; it's less of a boulder that's weighing me down. Maybe a stone or rock or pebble.

The tree that you told

The tree that you told tall tales to, it's wept.

The tree that you told tall tales to, it's wept. A log is all that weighs me down now.

Hands on your sweater, the walls listen

Hands on your sweater, the walls listen when I say three little words.

Hands on your sweater, the walls listen when I say three little words. Then why do I feel so guilty

Hands on your sweater, the walls listen when I say three little words. Then why do I feel so guilty speaking to a future

when I can't even see a morning

when I can't even see a morning that isn't an unfinished story?

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store
COMMENTS (7)
SHOUTOUTS (0)