so, if you feel like coming up here,
it's cold, and i need company;
your 2AM art projects are tiring me;
and the charcoal lines are going everywhere
you go;

they're running up your arm,
into your hair, and as you
touch my arm, i am marked the same;

like fingers on a broken hand,
this charcoal oak will stay with you
when you walk away from this;

and you say that it doesn't look
quite how it should, so you
adapt. "make it something good"-
but it always was and always will be.
you don't like what you've got,
but it looks perfect from here;

and every time you draw a branch
it's permanent; the things that you have done
will always have to live,

and that charcoal oak will understand
everything you are.

05/17/2007

Author's Note: A poem that i turned into a song with slightly modified lyrics. it can be found here: http://www.myspace.com/11524411

Posted on 05/17/2007
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams