The ones we remember- the ones we know best
Are the ones who cut deepest or leave the biggest mess.

Coffee stains the teeth, as blood stains the heart,

Love stains the sheets, it leaves you reeling in the dark.

Rational, the end, imagination starts

To beckon, to set in- it’s tearing you apart.

Apart from the fear that you felt all along,

Suspecting that forever couldn’t carry a feeling so strong.

Only for the moment, only in the zone.

Lonely is the lover who does the loving on his own.

The Moon fails too, the stars now still,

The sunbeams clamor to the window sill.

To wake me and shake me from the trance I’m in-

Call it instinct, the Dance of Men.

Up and around, back over the head,

We dance, and we dance, until we’ve dance ourselves dead.

And when the Moonrise returns our bodies to the bed,

The only sound we’ll hear is the ringing in our heads.

From the silence and the violence of nights yet to pass,

Worry robs the present, like it always has.

As futile as the falling Sun insisting on the Moon.

To rise, and close eyes, and it’s closing them soon.

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