the air is gray and stained with coffee
my ribs are stained with rain

i don't know what in your coral eyes
makes me weak
but i crumble and ache at the sight of you

if my eyes were the white screen
on which my heart projected its bleeding confessions
you'd be charging me commission

and i'd still chase you through a lightning storm
even if just to shield you from the hail
walking home drenched and alone
as he flies you away in his plane.

the air is gray and stained with coffee
my ribs are stained with rain
i breathe in the mist as you walk by me
and crumble again.

i don't know if it hurts more
to love you
or to try and stop.

05/03/2009

Author's Note: "the sight of you is painful."

Posted on 05/03/2009
Copyright © 2024 Max Phineas