Sleeping Cranes
Still Green Stonefruit
The ice is shaved like bed sheets over our garden that you let dieMy brain's sore from the cigarettes as I search for a savior in the Western skyI can hear the tape deck straining over the squealing in my lungsAs I forfeit our time that we never found and let the levity of longing comeI'm dissecting my insides in hopes to pin this fleeting happinessBut it's like grinding teeth against still green stonefruit in the endThe front lawn's filled with filters, there's trains in the backyardThere's cold tea in the kettle, I can see the snow caps from where we areThe devil's trumpet's dissonant, but it's spewing past my teethI bartered out my plans and hopes for the shallow comfort of stagnant feetRegret doesn't throttle my ribs, or the hollow in my chest'Cause I consolidated all its necessary equipment, took its voicebox and splitI set fire to our dead garden, and paved over the flower bedSo the compost can't start shifting and lecture me with its progressThe malleable future's waiting behind the door I've locked'Cause if my fingers never graze its face, it can always be just what I wantAnd I've been clean for a couple of weeks now, I think I did my timeAnother hit and she'll be out of my mind.
From Letras Mania