February 7, 2012

i awake
running down an aisle of stars,
a homecoming.

you balance at my vanity
listening to the trains,
an unloving warning.

you ask if i think you are falling
i don't think anymore i say
we can't escape this morning
it is everywhere we look
i sneak a blown kiss
and roll to the wall
you have come back to bed
you have torn your coat
you have told me the truth

i believe in us very quietly
i dream of marrying you
somewhere that doesn't exist.
in a sleeping city.
the streets made of shy moss
the streets made of soft music
the streets made of shooting stars
that have landed.