You weren’t a broken boy,
But there was something broken
With the way your shoes
Grazed the pavements
I want you around
Even as I say this
Through gritted teeth
And bleeding lips
Both our knees are scathed
From looting antique stores
And fruits from the grocer;
I was weak too, but not a thief
One of us wanted adventure
While the other opted for shelter
Your mind was set, so was mine;
We broke in into a library instead
As I write this I know he will not read it. Perhaps ill just write it anyways in good hope.
Oh lord baby it’s 11:08. The house is quiet with everyone gone or asleep. I have no grasp of time anymore. Between my nostalgia of you and studying and sleeping, what time is there? It’s okay if you hate me. Because even now I hate me.
It’s 11:10 baby, and I wish I could stop telling you the time but I want you to know that time has to go on for me. Each minute is a minute away from when we were together. I miss the way you were. Nothing specific but everything about you. You’ve come and go in my life, simply just a revolving door. When you want something you come to me. Hurting me. Love ill never understand why you can’t be the sweet side of you all the time? You’re so handsome when you’re sweet. The light seems to accent your sweet hair, your eyes turn into turquoise sparkles. Oh love, come back. I promise ill be a better me. Oh love it’s 11:14 and I miss you. A heart wrenching longing. The taste of you, of mint and laundry detergent. Lord it’s 11:15 and I’m begging you to bring my baby back home.