i dont know where this comes from.

[edit: 00:04, 20th april]
i think i like goodbyes, i think i play hard for them, hard but fair.
subconsciously. we had two, roughly. glances, both, and brief. maybe somewhere a heartbeat sputtered, but its hard to tell, its more of a fake vintage photograph peeling off my brain. textures, always. like a memory not built entirely, too hard to remember, but impossible to scale. i liked your nose and i never got that litttleboy smile i had saved in my head,the one i stole off pictures of you with strangers and mist.maybe you've killed it don't tell me what it is or maybe you've hidden it away in scripts for dreams to be played on some winter midnight don't ever sound like you did then, please. but its not anymore,i think i've seen snatches of who you could be but who pulled em down?
maybe that's what makes pretending easier maybe that's why you need to pretend at all.

..hide a while inside your smile
and it's going to be spring again..

happiness was never this game, but i played hard for a goodbye for maybe ,
I'm just too used to it.
------------------------------------------------------



if you were smoke and music
and two years ago,
those eyes of summer couldn't have
made you fade like the purple of my chamber,
the purple off the walls.

no more my favoured alphabet soup
my swell my beat no only
just six letters and the ceiling sometimes just a floodplain
left when i look away, bare walls of stars smart eyes no more.

peeling candies off the sky, spring seems
long gone but
if we were those two and
one on a branch
if you were more than a draft
i'd wish you into the thick honey evenings
of dreams and sprinkled stardust,
moon at sticky fingertips still
no want of water no wilting moments just
those which settle politely in my lungs and
drip


inhalable and fluid in that lovely way..
if you were smoke and music.