f.t.p.

i dont know how to follow into the proceeding
of what it looks like to continue beside you
because it doesnt have rhythm
or sense to begin
picked us off the curb of question
without answer or direction
"hold me close" you'll say
and i'll squeeze tighter
but will that move us past the cyclical motion of our lives
you say you'll be twenty-seven
that your bones are feeble and the mind distorts your reasons
i ask if they are our reasons
to let go and reply
with more of the truth then lies
the connotation
of a squid in love with a whale
and this is not funny
but honey
there was a suitcase with your things
left behind
and in every morning i'll wake to myself
and every night follow your trace
into cities brutal with honesty
where the streets themselves tell you that life hardens
and then there are crimson moments of skylines
and birds low enough to land with possibility
i'll describe myself to you
and hope your patience wouldn't abstract
and forget to follow
you are everything i said you were and all the more of what you know you are already
i am the pieces pulled together in darkness created by light
maybe we were never meant to say all of what was spoken
but life lives with no room to take back or deny
and ive fallen
hope full and in love with you
honey there is this connotation between us
it was the suggestion to follow the pull
walk the line
break the direction
forget the meaning
of every piece that others held and placed their bets
because it's only your word against mine
and here we stand alone
here we are divided
from all the other crossings pinnacle to this