You are gone to me. You're a broken watch, that shows no time. You are a sound of jazz in a far, far distance. You are a gold ring around my finger. You are there as a thing, as a symbol. That is all I have of you.
Red dress. Broken shoes. I will come. I will claim what is mine. I do not know what the right time is. I don't need to know anything. Minutes don't matter. Crazy. You make me high. I do not care for the season. It's like nothing has ever mattered to me.
Now it's just me and my red dress. Broken down to every pore. Broken down to every syl-la-ble. I will come and I will take what's mine.
If you refuse to fall down at my feet, I'll make you stumble. I will make you stammer when ever you open your mouth. I used to know you. You used to know me. Everyone stumbles. You can not always be sure. I should forget you. I will forget you. But I have this vague symbol of you. It shall drown.
No comments:
Post a Comment