i'm giving this to emily, if she wants it.
a song.
there is grace in making beauty out of danger
and you're a bad bet, but i've gotta take the wager
i am sitting in the window; i am dangling my feet
and thinking if i did it i could fly above the street
you’re a bet that I’d take a chance on
and the street is a place that we could dance on
even if I lose
if I scuff my wing-tip dancing shoes
it would still be a beautiful thing to glance on
if I fell for you only to crash and burn
i’d keep our ashes on the mantle in an urn
i’d build a private altar to our public scandal
and run my fingers through the votive candles
you are a glow that I want to stand in
a fire I want to stick my hand in
if it blisters
if the fire gives me up in whispers
it would still be a beautiful thing to land in
like it says in the bible, love conquers dying
and I’ll tell you it makes for beautiful flying
regardless of what dangers and how certain
(landin' the leap of faith don’t mean there’s no hurtin).
It’s a thing that I still have plenty o’ doubt of
(and I’m not someone you’d open a window and shout of)
but all doubts lingering
like new and shaky guitar fingering
there’s a danger we could make some beauty out of
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9 comments:
boyfriend i really like this. love girlfriend.
for you, girlfriend. love: boyfriend.
it was a nice voice to hear on my messages, yours, even if it was somewhat despondent. i've missed your voice.
i hadn't realized you called; if i had, i still would not have picked up, even though i really miss you.
that is your word, despondent, and i confess i was ignorant of it until you came into my life again and started using it. it will be connected to you in my mind forever and ever you know. it will take a little bit of the sting out of being despondent from now on.
things here are hard, and every day i know less and less about what i am doing with my life, here or anywhere. i've dug a nice hole for myself, drinking my way out of the good grades i used to get at buff state. god damn, what is wrong with me?
there is no one but me who can make this better, and i am not responsible enough to do it. i need to go to a halfway house for the irresponsible.
my radiators are squeaking.
i slept on the couch two nights ago and had auditorily induced nightmares (usually when i have nightmares they are auditorily induced) about two rabbitlike kangaroo-rat creatures fighting under the couch. when we moved the couch, there was blood, their two dead carcases, and the tissue of their legs and feet exposed and ripped to shreds. when we carried them out, their heads lolled like rag dolls...
i don't know how i slept through it other than i guess somehow in my sleep i knew it was the radiator.
ah, i miss you.
...thank you for not answering your phone.
i don't like this. i miss your face, like it were mine and someone took it from me...
i miss your voice like a lost echo.
goddamn your front porch.
i keep forgetting that i have a letter i can be putting all of this in.
love you
leave 'im alone, ms. Elsa; you bad luck to 'im.
'If Lucy Fell' is on tv today.
i'm watching it, and not thinking of you.
obviously.
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