a crown for you merely good 'til morning.
Shoulder bones, rib cage boundaries
only meant for me.
Seemingly different, captivating.
Living the worst because
it's scarcely short anyway.
I'm serious in my frivolous heroism;
if I was meant to save you
what choice do I have?
Sing it like "yeah."
We both know the end before I write it.
Chords. Chorus. Verse. Bridge.
Is the wait worthwhile, or
do these coffee cups pile
during a search for meaning?
Order change. Maybe no verse.
Purely Chorus.
Hammer home points of no return.
Barefoot memories dance in sand,
disregarding the foreshadowed rocks.
And quilted skies bode no response.
I should have known at seventeen,
but it took me twenty.
My shadow tried to warn me.
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