Any Story

What are these meanings to us?

These messed up verbs floating in fucked up nouns

Well, we could pretend

Could tiptoe through these real things

But reality doesn’t amuse me much,

Not anymore,

For I’m in the arms of something so surreal.

So, let’s  say a thing or two

Sing and savour jazz and blues

And let the melodies feel shy of their perfection

There’ll always be the things almost said

The words should’ve, could’ve

But I’ll find an escape in your flaws,

And I’ll not interrupt you, never

So will never blink away the scene of those lit up eyes

Drenched in joy of silliness

There could be any story, any theory

The seas to dissolving suns,

The nights to falling stars

But it will not drag me to debauchery of truth

I yearn the mysteries of your made up world

The flight of your fancied dreams

For if I believe the belief of letting go in love

The blissful forgetting

My truth is a forgetting found in your stories



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