do you remember the cold october night holding hands as we sang along to pennywise
speeding drunkenly down the highway screaming fuck authority like we were kids again
how all i wanted was to be your romeo as you were surely my juliet
but that juliet had other plans other than a faked death to trick the world
she pulled a disappearing act and romeo couldn’t pull the trigger because he never had the closure necessary
he just died incrementally of wonder and dismay clutching his hand as if it still clutched yours
folding the memories of your scent into a folder marked spam in the back creases of his brain
never letting himself say the words he never said to you because he worries any new juliet will run away
he is another failed casualty of the montague’s and the capulet’s in his own empty heart
every ending is tragic in it’s own sweet surrender in the folds and creases of rememberance
so here’s to you fickle former flame and to you current bonfire of hope unfettered and to all the flames gone to ash
i love you as i flicker in the winds of solemn sorrow softly dancing until all that remains
is wisps
‘liked’
LikeLike
Here is exactly what I’ve missed dear mike.
For that, it’s burn the midnight oil, baby. 🥰😘
Incidentally, beat around the bush is a very sexual idiom
LikeLiked by 1 person
it is isn’t it? I’m just glad I could make you happy
LikeLiked by 1 person