Love & Dust
I don’t hear my own words anymore,
So many of them written in words I can’t translate.
Written in words I was learning how to speak,
Written by the water, my voice thrown into the wind.
This is the beach where the lightening strikes the sand,
This is the room I knew you first in, give me your hand.
This is the last real moment I believed in your ghost,
I have believed myself haunted and hid you in my sweet tooth,
But I have never had a craving quite persistent as you.
Love and dust are what is left, when I sweep the rug.
My eyes are bloodshot and watering, as I clean everywhere,
Every once and a while I look out the fogged up window
And stare at the cold rain, wishing I could air this place out,
Shake the rugs free of of all the dust and magic your boots left when you left.
You’ve seen me come a fire, and I swear I will again.
I won’t say I expired, it’s just the way I’m wired.
I need to be cut in half every once and a while,
So I can come back to you whole again.
It’s all dust and wreckage inside of the poems where we lived.
Maybe I needed a big moon to shine light on the open sea.
Maybe I needed a toothache, to learn to crave the right things,
To stop me from wanting to indulge in the sweetness of escape.
Babe, I’ve been a lot of places and written many things.
I’ve been stuck between the pages like a pressed flower to holy verse.
Yes, I’ve said many things, but all my words on a collection place,
A table set with bread and grace, and all I can honestly claim
Is I have never felt more in my place, than I did when I was someone to you.